Faraway hills are green
by Reiprac Manna
Summary: Pirates!au, 2x1, 3x4 and various others; excerpt from chapter 8: "W-why exactly are you naked, Heero?"
1. Prologue

Warnings: Poor Duo obviously has a gambling addiction and, as of chapter 16, it still remains to be seen whether or not he will only gamble away *things.*

* * *

**Prologue**

The first time I ever heard about Mr. Sawdown or Froog's Island was on the Bahamas. I was playing cards—and losing terribly, but that's rather beside the point. Much more to the point is that it was on the Bahamas I came across my old friend Jack and fate took its course.

Like most of my friends, Jack was a drunkard and villain and more than a little scatterbrained, but loved to regal his friends (and anyone else who didn't get away fast enough) with fantastic stories about the hidden treasures of the sea and the less hidden treasures of the ladies he had courted when he'd been young, resourceful and still in the possession of his teeth. With his stories tending to be outrageous at best and pure invention at worst, I didn't really pay attention when one of his tales segued into the story of Mr. Sawdown, his boundless wealth and his beautiful daughter, although today I must admit that maybe—maybe I should have had. It's just that, way back then, I'd never have imagined that I'd meet the man and find his gold and I certainly didn't expect to steal the exotic beauty he kept hidden in his house.

But before you read on, dear reader, let's make our introductions. I'm Duo Maxwell, adventurer, thief and libertine and yes, some people might even call me a pirate. Since I'm obviously the main character of this tale and our acquaintance might last for a while, I should probably tell you a little more about myself... I'm witty and clever and quite handsome but unfortunately also exceedingly unlucky... That last bit I put down to the time when I was seventeen and foretold by a gypsy that I was doomed to lose everything I'd ever win or steal or somehow get my hands on through my incessant gambling and so far the gypsy had been all too right— I never managed to hold onto a penny.

After I left the Bahamas, I fell to travelling again, sailing South to hunt for fabled treasures, going East to solve some ancient riddles and sojourning at the royal courts of Europe to get entangled in one or two love affairs. It was only when I started to gamble again and frittered away the few coins left of my last adventures that I remembered the unlikely tale of my friend Jack... The decision was rather easy. I loved adventure - and was broke enough to try about anything - so I looked for a ship that could bring me to the tiny island where Mr. Sawdown was said to run his inn and come autumn was well on my way from the cool and foggy shores of Northern Europe to the misty tropical coast of Froog's Island...

Because of my outgoing nature (and since they too needed the money), I made some friends in the course of my journey. I befriended the captain of the ship I'd signed up on, a deceptively quiet man called Trowa, who was in the pirate business himself. His brownish bangs concealed the gruesome empty vessel of his right eye (which he'd supposedly lost in a wrestling match with a sawfish). His first mate was called Quatre and had once been the legitimate heir of a vast desert kingdom until he fell victim to a court intrigue that not only forced him into a life of piracy but also - for reasons yet to be revealed - left him with an oddly twitching face. The two of them were friends with a striking man called Wufei, who had made a name for himself in the faraway countries of the East and was famous for his twisted sense of justice.

Thus I had a nice little band of fellow adventurers with me when I disembarked on that fateful night we reached our destination. It was a stormy, thundery night, around the 5th or 6th of October, and suitably pregnant with foreboding.

Still, as we walked along the docks towards the small settlement nestled into the harbour's bay, heavy rain pouring down on us and glaring flashes of lightning piercing the rainclouds over our heads, we still expected this adventure to be nothing but smooth sailing... We'd find Mr. Sawdown, which shouldn't have been very difficult considering his marvellous wealth, find a way to get at his gold and off we'd go back over the Atlantic Ocean. Smooth sailing— until we'd traversed the small but lively settlement twice without coming across Mr. Sawdow's famous inn... To the best of my recollection my friend Jack had been rather vague about the location of the place but went to some lengths to draw a vivid picture of the lovely barmaids distributing the first-rate sugar-cane rum of Sawdown's private distillery.

Then, another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the night and Quatre spied a fading iron sign dangling from a tall, windswept structure in the darkness of a narrow alley...

"I think… it's over there," he said and then added, hesitantly: "Appears to be old, doesn't it?"

We peered into the night.

"I don't see anything…"

"I think it's there... Let's wait for lightning."

And we waited. Sure enough, the next flash lit up the night and we all saw it— the _Sailor's Inn_ or what was left of it. Mr. Sawdown's famous establishment was a multi-storeyed rickety wooden construction with a dishevelled palm leaf roof. It certainly didn't look like a wealthy man's business. To be honest, it didn't even look very inhabited.

Alas, we had a mission to accomplish.


	2. Falsehood

warnings: perfect-and-adorable!Heero

* * *

**Chapter 1: Falsehood**

You may think that our first impression of the inn was somehow deceptive and that it appeared much more appealing from the inside, snug and comfortable even. Of course, you could be right. Unfortunately though the inside of the Sailor's Inn was (if that was possible) even more miserable to look at than the outside.

A dark, smoke-filled room was crowded with twenty boisterous and clearly inebriated men who were playing cards, drinking rum and flirting with the heavily made up but rather unappealing barmaids. Some of the men sported ugly scars on their faces, others had lost legs, hands or eyes and wore crude artificial limbs of fantastic shapes, eye-patches, glass eyes and—I think you get the picture—but none of them had obviously found time to take a bath in months.

Then my eyes fell on some of the symbols the men had tattooed on their upper arms and chests and I was struck by the sudden realization that the Sailor's Inn was nothing less than a pirate's nest… and quite cheerful pirates at that. The room resounded with noisy chatter, roaring laughter and the continuous stamping of booted feet. There was something so horribly wrong with that picture that Trowa finally said: "Duo, I think it's time that you told us what exactly your friend Jack said about Sawdown and the gold he is supposed to have. And don't forget the part about the gold."

There was a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Alright," I replied somewhat less self-confidently, quite surprised myself by the lack of wealth and abundance of squalor we had stumbled upon. "It's just- a while ago, you know." And I certainly didn't pay all that much attention to Jack's stories, I added silently in my head. Then again, no one else ever had... He made up most of his stories and he tended to exaggerate... he even lied for God's sake.

"Let's see," I began, trying very hard to remember. "It was after I finished this... 'job' at the Cape of Good Hope... so it must have been... ah yes, it was on the Bahamas! Great place for a game of cards, have you ever been there?" My question was met by stony silence. "Right," I said, clearing my throat. "Here's what Jack told me. He said...

'Duo, my old friend, you sure you want to play with this poor hand? I know you still have some coins from this... 'job' at the Cape of Good Hope, but—well, nevermind, you're going to lose your money anyway and it's better you lose it to me. _Ha ha._ I tell you something, Duo, in case you'll ever be desperate enough... _Ha ha._ I once knew a man who loved to play at least as much as you do. But to give him his due, he was also a pretty good thief and one day he devised a truly ingenious plan to steal a ton of gold and jewels from an English ship that was supposed to bring wedding presents to the royal court of Spain—I think... or was it France? The whole thing caused a huge breach in diplomatic relations between England and Spain, um, or France... Let me think this over for a moment... hum.. yes, it could well have been France-or the Netherlands. Yes, I'm coming to that part, Duo... but first I have to gather my thoughts...

Ah yes... there were other men involved in the whole thing, can't remember their names though, but they aren't important, trust me. The thief outwitted them and got away with their share of the treasure. For a long while he was said to have met his fate somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, killed by sharks, seduced by a mermaid, stabbed in the back by his greedy friends... something like that. You still listening, Duo? You appear to be...sleeping...

Here's the important part, my friend! I have met the thief. Yes, I know were he is! He lives on Froog's Island, tiny spot east of the West Indies but west of the Western Isles*, full of mist and frogs and rats. Sawdown is his name and he runs a first-class inn there. The Sailor's Inn, a really fancy little bar with the best sugar-cane rum I've ever tasted, pretty strong, too. ..."

I cleared my throat and looked at my friends. "Well, that's what he said."

"That's all," Quatre asked, sounding incredulous.

"No..."

"Go on then!"

"He said that the barmaids weren't exactly an eyesore either and his daughter-"

"Duo, tell us about the gold," Wufei growled.

"Would you keep your voice down, Wu. He didn't say anything else about the gold. Sawdown took it and disappeared and he... waitaminute!"

"What," Quatre cried out.

"I remember—"

"You remember—"

"Oh, I should have known there was something... I totally forgot that..."

"That..?"

"That he BURIED his gold! He buried it to keep it safe from his accomplices!" For a moment I was so happy to remember the story that I started to laugh... at least for a couple of seconds, until the wrath of my friends hit me in the shape of a ruthless pull on my braid.

That's how we arrived on Froog's Island and I myself would have been angry at my forgetfulness if the noisily babbling men around us hadn't chosen this exact moment to fall completely silent and swivel their heads towards the wooden door behind the counter to shamelessly ogle the small figure that had just entered the room. It was a boy, young man really, wearing a heavy black rain cloak and an awfully oversized woollen sweater over dusty tattered pantaloons and a pair of shoddy damaged boots. You might wonder why he was such a sight to behold that everyone in the room was holding their breath and staring at the scruffy looking boy as if he were the holy grail or a barrel of rum. You wouldn't have to wonder if you had been able to see him with your own eyes—for from the top of his soot-covered unkempt hair to the pale skin of his skinny ankles the boy was beautiful. So beautiful that we all watched in rapt fascination as he put the keg of beer he had been lugging inside to the floor and slowly got up to stretch his tired body. His completely unflattering clothes did nothing to conceal the natural grace of his movements.

It wasn't long before the boy noticed the uncanny silence in the room and stopped to glance over his shoulder, a look of wayward deviance and determination in his eyes. I could look at him more closely now... at his disturbingly blue eyes and dangerously tempting mouth and the god-damn soft looking mop of his chocolate brown hair.

"Jesus," I muttered but was immediately hushed by the pirates at a nearby table.

Just then a rough, deep voice boomed through the silent room and startled us from our reverie.

"Stop eyeing my son like you're all about to molest him! I don't want to repeat myself—" a moment of silence, "_again_." The voice sounded frustrated.

A burly man in his early fifties, clothed in a loose white shirt, dark leather vest, brown pants and shiny well-cared for boots had climbed on the counter. His round face was almost scarlet with anger. "Now wipe the drool off your ugly faces and mind your own damn business! Drinks are on me," he added grudgingly.

"Thish ish a free island, Shhawdown," one of the men slurred loudly. The others just grumbled noisily and turned back to their drinks, knowing quite well that free rum was a rare piece of luck.

The man – Sawdown – climbed down from the counter. "Why won't you ogle my daughter for a change," he suggested, voice a little strained. The gathered pirates managed to actually look indignant.

Wufei tapped one of them on the shoulder and asked gruffly: "What is wrong with this onna?"

"Nothing's wrong," the man replied and laughed drunkenly. "She's plain ugly, that's all. Everyone on this god-forsaken island is… either—or, I mean, plain ugly or uglily plain."

"No, not Heero," a younger pirate interrupted immediately. "He's the only—the only—beautiful thing around here."

"I see," Quatre replied, discreetly rolling his eyes.

Little did we know how right that statement would turn out to be.

* * *

* Western Isles = outer Hebrides


	3. and

warnings: no warnings, it's non-violent and there are no naked people having sex together, but... there might be in the future! (At least I hope so.)

* * *

**Chapter 2: and  
**

After listening for a while to a couple of lovesick pirates chatting animatedly about this Heero person, my friends and I began to consider the new situation and our chances of still getting the now-buried gold of Mr. Sawdown. We set down at a secluded table in a dimly lit corner of the room and ordered a round of drinks. Trowa leaned back in his chair thinking silently for some time while we busied ourselves with sampling the local fare - whatever Jack had lied about in his stories, the rum really was first-rate and strong enough to set something on fire. After a while, Trowa rapped his knuckles on the table-top to get our attention. As I've mentioned before, he was an infamous pirate leader, pursued by a whole fleet of mercenaries hired by European businessmen who were determined to put an end to his raids in the Atlantic Ocean. We sometimes wondered how Trowa had managed to become the head of a band of pirates. He certainly didn't have the kind of leadership qualities you'd expect to find in a pirate, except maybe his missing eye— _that_ at least managed to scare someone. Yet he was the only one of us who spoke English, French and Portuguese and – due to his thoughtfulness, far-sight and healthy attitude towards games of chance – still owned a seaworthy ship. But back to our current situation – Trowa leaning forward in his chair and beginning to speak.

"Quatre, Wufei (yes, he was ignoring me), it seems that we'll be staying on this island a little longer than we thought. We obviously weren't given all the necessary information," he pointed at me as he said that, but quickly resumed ignoring me. "All of us are for various reasons dependent on the gold, so we'll have to look for it even if it might take some time." For a moment I was the recipient of their collective frown. "We should try to find a job somewhere around the town, maybe even here in Sawdown's house, to observe people more closely and find out if there's something like a map that could lead us to the treasure."

"Very well," Quatre acknowledged and looked questioningly around the table. I pouted, hating to be ignored and frowned at, even more so as this was originally MY great adventure.

„Any further suggestions?"

"Can we get rid of Duo?"

"No. Any _other_ further suggestions?"

"Why not," Wufei demanded, dead serious. He was less silent but far more annoying than Trowa, and strictly speaking he was not even a real pirate, but had only gotten into the business in pursuit of a _higher_ aim—exacting revenge for the pillage of his home town, a fishing village at the coast of the Yellow Sea. At the moment, however, he decided to bring up a part of my life I really wasn't fond of discussing but rather determined to ignore up to my dying breath.

"He's bad luck. He's cursed!" Which – of course – I was not.

"I am not cursed," I told him. "I was foretold!" Pronouncing the last word with due gravity.

"Oh, that's the same!"

"No, it isn't!" On the ship, we had arguments like this on a regular basis and somewhere on our journey across the Atlantic I had come to regret ever telling him anything about myself let alone the fateful prophecy dating back to the time when I was seventeen that I tend to hold responsible for most of the things that have happened to me ever since. But I have a very friendly disposition and I love talking. Considering that I on principle never tell a lie I can see that this poses problems to a person aspiring to be a somewhat successful thief and pirate. But I'm sure Wufei will tell you that in a second.

"What's with his...," he hushed his voice in shame. "His inability to lie... And he's such a blabbermouth, a cursed blabbermouth!"

"Foretold," I repeated. For obvious reasons I strongly preferred being foretold to being cursed.

"Let's resolve the matter by vote," Quatre suggested with a sunny smile, shamelessly using his deceptively innocent charm that had been the downfall of innumerable women (and men) to get his way.

"Is Duo still part of this endeavour or not?"

After a few moments of consideration, Trowa nodded kindly while Wufei kept shaking his head and the issue was settled.

* * *

We approached the counter on the far side of the room where Sawdown and his son seemed to be immersed in a father-son conversation, a rather aggressive and one-sided father-son conversation. Sawdown's face had turned an even deeper shade of red and was scrunched up in a malicious grimace while the boy he was yelling at wore a perfect mask of utter indifference. On seeing the three of us approaching, however, the argument quickly died down and both father and son stared at us with strange apprehension— and maybe a little bit of suppressed frustration on part of the older man.

Leaning casually against the counter I had already opened my mouth and was about to speak when Mr. Sawdown rudely beat me to it.

"If you're suitors, you're just wasting your time!"

I managed to stammer out a startled "What?" before the man grabbed the neck of my shirt and drew me very close to his red and sweaty face, scrutinizing me with an intense look while forcefully turning my face this way and that to read my expression... or some other highly interesting thing I had on my face and didn't know about.

"You _look_ like suitors...," he observed slowly and thoughtfully, his left eye squinted in suspicion, and spat the tobacco he had been chewing right passed my face and on the floor. I could see his left hand slowly reaching for the 2-foot long machete he wore on his belt. It was not a pleasant situation, yet it turned out to be just the right thing to loosen my tongue.

"Mister! We are no suitors...," I assured him in what I hoped was an honest, trustworthy tone. "... of whoever. We just need a job!"

Silence—then, after a small eternity of hanging helplessly in his grasp, Sawdown seemed to reconsider.

"Oh," he said, put me back on the ground and straightened my collar. "That's a first."

All of a sudden, a broad smile split his face and he clapped me enthusiastically on the shoulder.

"I really thought you were after him like the rest of the islanders."

My friends and I looked puzzled.

"Who's _he_, Mr. Sawdown," I asked.

"My son."

Sawdown pointed to the slight figure beside him. As if on cue, we looked at the boy in the shadow of his larger frame and inevitably a dreamy expression crept into our eyes.

"I don't know why they're after him like a starving man after a puddle of muddy water. He's skinny," Sawdown grumbled testily.

_Slender,_ my mind corrected.

"Short."

_Petite_.

"Horribly clothed."

_Oh, he really doesn't need clothes anyway._

"He's got a sooty face, grimy nails and he smells..."

_Well, nobody's perfect._

"Anyway... You need a job, right?" Sawdown changed the subject with surprising quickness and looked us up and down, Quatre in particular, his eyes lingering longer than strictly necessary until Trowa interrupted his scrutiny with an impatient "Well?" (1)

"I have only use for one of you," he explained. The boy beside him pulled at his sleeve and standing on tiptoe leaned towards him to whisper something into his ear.

"Well, scratch that," Sawdown said. "Two of you. You are lucky. It just so happens that my distiller has passed away... this afternoon. Home-made rum is a little dangerous, it easily gets too strong. If you want the job you better know a thing or two about distilling, or it might be your last job... well, and then... (he licked his lips) I could need a little help in the bar. Of course, I won't take your one-eyed friend or the guy with the scowl. Don't want to scare away my valued costumers." He paused and we all took a long look at the room full of horribly crippled pirates and drunkards. "But I could use the blonde," he added finally, now leering outright. "It's your decision, though. As for the rest of you, Doc J needs a second man on his fishing boat, he's a little... odd ... talks rubbish and stuff... but he'll surely give you the job... um... as no one else seems to be interested."

After insulting both Trowa and Wufei, Quatre and I weren't able to persuade them to take the offered job in the distillery, both adamantly opposed to indulging Sawdown. That left the job to none other than myself and considering that I didn't have the slightest idea how to make rum I wasn't really that ecstatic about it. Fearing for my life or at least my eyesight, I was about to politely decline the offer when Mr. Sawdown motioned to his son to approach me.

"Show him the distillery, son."

The boy with the chocolate brown hair raised his head and looked at me. He nodded slowly.

"Follow me," he said, his voice low and pleasant, only adding to his beauty, but it also kindled a desire to hear him speak more often.

And all of a sudden, I couldn't bring myself to resent the idea of ending up seriously maimed or even dead. He preceded me through the backdoor and across an adjoining market square, carrying a small lantern he had picked up earlier near the door. He turned left towards the docks and finally led me to a tiny wooden shed next to the wharves.

I tried to initiate my first conversation with him when we reached the hut and he was fumbling with his keys to open the door. "My name is Duo Maxwell," I said. "I've sailed the seven seas and then some, but I've never seen anything quite as lovely as you. You can believe me, sweetheart, I run and hide but I never tell a lie. Would you... um... like to see my tattoos?" But to my utter shock and infinite amazement I was to discover that he ignored me.

The second time I tried to speak with him was a few minutes after that while he showed me the tubes, pipes, flasks and rubber sealing rings used for the distillation and explained how to use them... and he ignored me again.

It took me a week to get him to tell me his name (he was the famous Heero) and to respond a little even if it was only to shut me up. Later on he got into the habit of snorting and got it down to a fine art and eventually he thought up a nickname to call me when I tried to lure him into conversations, which was "baka."

By that time I had realized that he was not only beautiful but also endearing with his snorts and one-syllable-phrases and that I had gone and almost fallen in love with him.

But that was – like I said – after he had stopped ignoring me. Up until that day I spent hour after hour in the little distillery and learned how to distil Mr. Sawdown's famous sugar-cane rum and was happy enough that I seemed to survive it.

* * *

(1) That's the first hint of 3+4. But it won't stay just a hint, so watch out!

A couple of days ago I went to watch "Pirates of the Caribbean" with my friend and when I came home at around midnight I decided to pull myself together and write the third chapter of this fic. I don't like the first part of this chapter very much, the second part is much funnier. Also, I think that my Duo is getting dumber by the minute and I don't know why since I use the same dictionary, oh well, it must be me... anyway, I hope you don't mind. Finally, I would like to thank the 6 reviewers. [CinC (the very first), NightHawk6, Sefarina Malaika, yaoi angel, dreamer and Nehc-p] Thank you very much :D


	4. Deceit

warnings: Heero is still perfect, **mention** of murder, there will _of course_ be **real** murder - for those of you who can't read a pirate story that doesn't have at least one corpse in it :) And (I don't know if it really should be considered a warning) I forgot to mention Relena, but she will eventually make an entrance.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Deceit**

Contrary to what people may think, life on Froog's Island was surprisingly uneventful. Although on second thought that probably shouldn't be surprising at all since most of the islanders benefited from keeping a low profile. For most of them rewards were offered at some place or other in the known parts of the world, for piracy or murder or treason or something completely different, but mainly piracy, murder and treason. The rest had been put to flight by creditors or tried to bridge the gap between a raid and the time when it was finally save to dig up a buried treasure. Still less waited for a ship to bring them to faraway adventures while presumably only four of the island's inhabitants had set out to investigate the strange circumstances surrounding the legendary gold of Mr. Sawdown.

For decades now Froog's Island had stayed hidden in the thick mist that was billowing around the island and the European ships bound for the newly found mysterious continent in the West had continued to overlook it and sailed by. On days a ship was due to cross the coastal waters of the island everyone held their breath and watched motionlessly as the creaky sounds of the invisible vessel slowly moved through the mist and more often than not missed the coast by a hair's breadth. The only thing that might have threatened the island's secret existence were the frogs that infested the ponds and muddy pools. But who hasn't heard frogs croaking in the middle of an ocean, right?

While Quatre started his work at the inn, Trowa and Wufei went in search of Doc J who lived and worked outside of the small settlement, at the southern edge of the bay. There, on a pristine strip of white-sanded beach was Doc J's very own shipyard, where he contrived and designed the truly remarkable ships his utterly insane mind used to come up with on a regular basis. But that was something Trowa and Wufei were still ignorant of... The first thing that drew their attention when they arrived at J's shipyard was just a curious floating, swaying and groaning object that lay at anchor in the shallow coastal waters... and a thin old man with white hair and a white face clothed in a onetime white smock, hopping around on the surface of the strange monstrosity and merrily swinging a hammer and a paint brush... Trowa and Wufei drew nearer to the shore. Up close the swimming object had a really interesting texture, metallic almost. But before they got the chance to further investigate, the man on top had already discovered them and in a rush of white hair he swung around and leaned over the rim, a pair of glasses flashing brightly in the sunlight.

"Ah... admirers! You came to see my ship, didn't you? The last one foundered right away, but this will last, I know it. What do you think?"

"Well... is it really a _ship_, sir," Trowa called up to the old man.

"Of course it is! Why, it swims!"

"Well, a lot of things... _swim_ and no one would ever... um... never mind."

Ignoring the conversation, Wufei had waded knee-deep into the water and was touching the silvery hull of the ship with hesitant fingers. "But how can that be," he murmured. "It doesn't only look like metal... it feels like it, too." Bravely, he knocked against the smooth surface and rested his right ear against it. His eyes went wide in amazement.

"It is metal!" Looking up at the bizarre man, now perched on the ship's top railing, he exclaimed in a slightly awed voice: "But metal is too heavy! It doesn't swim! ... Is it... cursed?"

The white haired man erupted into booming laughter. "This here is the future, gentlemen! You will see— or maybe not— in a few hundred years all ships will be made of metal, and the carriages on the streets, and maybe... maybe there will be ships for the sky, too... hum… metal sky ships... yes! Can't you just see it in your head how they will look like… hm?"

Trowa and Wufei looked uncomfortable. "We are looking for a job, sir... if you could use two fearless young men on your fishing boat, we'd like to sign up."

At this the man blinked owlishly, looking truly surprised. "You... you would sail with me, you would?"

"Yes. Didn't we... just say that?"

"Oh! I just wanted to make sure! What is keeping you then! To your right is the rope... Climb up here!"

And so it was that Trowa and Wufei met Doc J and came to sail on his strange metal ship. Along the way they (belatedly) began to realize why no one had ever wanted their job and continued to sail on (conservative) wooden ships, while J had finally someone who listened to his (immensely progressive and ingenious) plans.

In the meantime, Quatre was slowly getting accustomed to his job at the Sailor's Inn and Mr. Sawdown's awkward advances. Despite the odd twitching of his face, he was still a beauty and there were quite a few pirates on the island who admitted that even the twitching was a tiny little bit appealing... In fact, it wasn't long before the people on the island began to gossip about Quatre.

"If anyone had told me just a couple of days ago," one crippled pirate would say to another, "that someone on this island could rival Heero in beauty I would have felt obliged to cut his throat, you know? But I might just change my mind on that one seeing that sweet little thing with his twitching face."

"And he can cook, too," the other pirate would reply and noisily slurp the soup Quatre had whipped up in the kitchen.

With Wufei and Trowa on Doc J's fishing boat and I myself so very occupied with Hee... um... the distillery, Quatre was our main source of information in this early stage of our adventure.

Within the first week he supplied us with the name of a man that had caught his particular attention: Zechs Merquise.

Zechs had smuggled secret information for the royal courts of England and Spain, sometimes behind both their backs and to the advantage of a third party. As a triple agent, he betrayed his royal clients with the same smooth evasiveness he used to dupe his countless romantic conquests. His career ended with at least five death sentences in four European kingdoms. He was deserted at sea, but rescued by the henchmen of a lovesick Italian lady named Noin. Saved and set free again he turned his back on civilization and found his true vocation in the company of a marauding bunch of pirates called White Fang. The most striking thing about him was certainly his face. He wore a flashy ivory mask over the upper half of his face, which gave him an air of mystery but also had people wondering about his fashion sense.

Zechs was a regular at the inn, always lurking around somewhere, drinking and playing cards and that made him rather suspicious. He also seemed to be truly infatuated with Heero, which wasn't all that unusual—Heero was the heartthrob of the whole island— but Zechs really took the cake with his obtrusiveness and the thinly veiled presumption of his advances.

Most of the islanders had made a move on Heero since the boy had hit puberty, but were just as easily scared off by his father's open disapproval of any possible suitor, and that gives me a wonderful transition. Mr. Sawdown's peculiar—_peculiar—_objections. He certainly was a little too fastidious for a thief and crafty businessman, who might otherwise have seized any opportunity to make money. All suitors fell into disfavour with Mr. Sawdown, even the wealthy ones, which was odd to say the least. He would instantly reject any son or daughter-in-law the little island possibly had to offer, which earned him much enmity and many hard feelings. As the island's only distiller, he'd always been rather well-liked and respected… until the thing with Heero. Now he was at odds with the whole island. Poor Heero was the recipient of his father's temper tantrums, spending his days hiding behind soot and dirt and outfacing his suitors. Alas, refusing to speak to them had made him a little... silent.

And then there was me and Heero and the distillation of first-rate sugar cane rum. I still remember quite clearly the first few days after our arrival when we sat alone in the tiny wooden hut and performed a number of utterly complicated, more or less accidental procedures that must have been pretty dangerous. We weren't _exactly_ what you would call kindred spirits. But I was determined to discover the sweet and charming sides of his character or else—if there weren't any sweet and charming sides to be discovered—settle with Heero the shrew.

My wooing had been off to a rough start, though, and since nothing I had tried seemed to have been even remotely successful I eventually decided to stick to tradition. The pirate approach to new friendships and marriage was story-telling. Adventures, great quests and daring deeds— if they didn't win me Heero's heart (or at the very least his body) nothing would, I started to realize.

So, in the early morning hours of a cold November day while scrubbing, crushing and draining sugar canes I began my first story, the story of how I came to be, of my parents and their own passionate love affair, what better way to begin a courtship than with a tale of passionate love… or so I thought.

"It's a story of great passion," I told him. "My mother was a beauty few men could have resisted, and as a matter of fact very few actually did… resist her, I mean. My father was a pirate. She saw him passing by her window where she sat all day combing her chestnut hair. Her house was close by the sea so she could watch the sailors strolling by on their way to the taverns. She caught his eye and winked at him and that was that. Their love was passionate but sadly short-lived— it lasted a very, very _short_ time... um... say a night. The very next morning my father went to sea again and well… my mother was back to combing her hair."

I must admit Heero didn't look particularly wooed. So I tried to do better with my next story, at noon in front of the bubbling distillation apparatus. "I may not have known my father, but I had a great many aunts and all of them were quite popular with the sailors that used to drop by for... um... visits. I learned all kinds of useful things from them, like how to pick pockets and play cards. I learned how to play for stakes long before I was out of my diapers."

By early afternoon, while we were still waiting for the alcohol to precipitate, I was telling him about my first adventures. When I was 12, I'd started working as a ship-boy on a large English three-master that was circumnavigating Africa. The journey took two years and all I'd done during that time was scrub the deck-planks, stern to bow. But by now I was clever enough to keep that little detail to myself. So I told him mainly about the heaps of gold we'd looted and of the artful tricks we'd played on those who had tried to oppose us. The scrubbing part was left out. And it may well have been that all the other stories I told him after that turned out a little more glorious and fascinating than they should have and Heero might just have thought me a little greater and braver than I really was but all's fair in love and war and hey, for the first time I really seemed to make some progress...

The first thing that changed was the way he looked at me. At the very beginning of our acquaintance he had merely glanced my way (clearly out of shyness*) and well, without speaking a word. But one day in November I discovered a difference. He actually looked at me. His mouth still refused to smile, but I could tell he _wanted_ to. His traitorous lips had acquired a slight twitch and for some odd reason that made me almost deliriously happy. On rare occasions, his cheeks would turn the faintest pink, usually when I spoke of a beautiful woman I once had known and admittedly I did that just to see him blush like that. I hadn't realized that I had turned into a story-teller until he began to listen to me with serious eyes and a gasping mouth. As he looked at me, completely forgetting to mask his interest while his hands were still scrubbing and crushing and draining away, he was both really funny to look at and a thing of unconscious beauty. Suddenly, it became quite easy to strike up conversations.

"How did you manage to get out of _that_," was his favourite question and I did feel guilty when I answered him more often than not with the same answer...

"Oh, no! If I told you today where would be the fun tomorrow?"

He snorted. "You are lying."

"I can't lie. Ask Wufei, he loves to talk about it."

"It's still not possible that you could have survived something like _that_."

"Have you ever been in something like _that_?"

"I don't have to be. It's not possible."

"Ouch— there you have it! I've cut my finger and it's your fault."

"Still not possible."

"Would you look at the blood! My finger is almost half cut off—"

"Baka," he said, face twitching.

"You could… kiss it better?"

And just in case you were wondering, he didn't kiss my finger. It wasn't half cut off either, but there was a lot of blood, really.

On another day - I was just about to tell him how Trowa found a shipwrecked Quatre in the middle of the Dead Sea, far away from any scrap of dry land - I managed to draw Heero into a longer conversation.

"He was alone there. Clinging to a figurehead?"

"Yes, he was."

Heero snorted softly.

"In most other stories people are clinging to planks," he informed me coolly.

"If you'd stop interrupting me I could get on with the story and tell you."

He sighed. "Go on."

"So, as I said before you interrupted me, Quatre was drifting at sea clinging to a figurehead. And it was, I might add, not just any random figurehead but the figurehead of the flagship of a royal fleet. As the true heir to a huge desert kingdom Quatre had had many enemies, even in his own family. It was just his bad luck to have 30 sisters who all hated him and envied him to no end since he was going to be king. So they were constantly scheming to put a forceful and preferably painful end to his claims to the throne. One night they decided to just get it over with and strangle him. Each of them tiptoed into his bedroom and in turn tried to murder him. That's how he got the twitching: He managed 29 of them quite smoothly but by the time the 30th arrived his strength was waning and she did succeed in cutting his air supply for a minute or two. He did survive, though, and his evil scheming sisters never bothered him again. But he still had to fear for his life and therefore decided to steal the complete royal fleet, take a handful of his most trusted men and sail away to find a new kingdom for himself."

"And that's when his ship was attacked and boarded and he was enslaved by pirates," Heero said, knowing far too many of my stories already, I realized.

"That would be rather boring, wouldn't it?"

He nodded.

"No, his ship was attacked and boarded and he was thrown into the Dead Sea... by pirates."

Heero rolled his eyes, but kept listening all the same.

"Miraculously, Quatre and the figurehead floated on the surface when Trowa picked them up."

"Wood floats, Duo," Heero said, as if he were speaking to a toddler.

"But the figurehead was not supposed to float."

"It wasn't?" His face was twitching again. I could almost sense the smile threatening to break out on his face any minute now.

"Well, like any decent figurehead it was a symbol. Quatre's ship was called _Sandrock_ and the figurehead was just that, a rock of—"

Upon my soul! What was that? Heero was laughing! A rich, completely unreserved, happy kind of laughter I'd never heard from him before.

"Duo, you baka," he gasped, as this wonderful laughter shook out of him.

"Ah, I might just as well go on with the story."

"Yes," he said, smiling. "Go on."

"Quatre was very grateful that Trowa had saved his life and he decided to stay with him as his first mate. He was still his first mate when I met the two of them years later."

"Were you still captain of the large English three-master then," he asked, eyes twinkling.

"Huh? Captain of—oh, you mean the three-master... erm... no. And I didn't tell you that I was the captain, did I?"

"You said you were quite possibly the most important person on the whole ship."

"Why, yes. Sure, the most important person... sort of... well, I met Quatre and Trowa. And now listen... and stop your smirking, will you?"

Ah yes, it seemed to go so well... until all of it decided to go awry instead.

* * *

* Yeah, right. Remember you don't have to believe everything Duo says:)

Notes: I know that there's little romance going on so far, but I finally figured out what's going to happen next:D Since February or so I wanted to beat romantic situations into this chapter, now I'm wiser and just post it. The fic was an the verge of dying due to neglection. But the next part can't possibly take longer, can it? Once in a while, things like one-year-breaks just happen:) That's one of the great mysteries of mankind. Although I won't hold it against you if you lost interest because of that :D


	5. Un

**Chapter 4: Un**

"I refuse to set foot on that _thing_ ever again," Wufei said one day in February when we were having dinner at the inn after a long day of work. Quatre had all but taken over the kitchens, churning out surprisingly palatable seafood creations that had the islanders smacking their lips in delight. Trowa had definitely gained some pounds, I noticed. Then again, his plate was always heaped high with the best pieces. Lucky bastard.

„Wufei, that's part of our cover," Trowa said through a mouthful of food, but Wufei was stubborn.

"For three months we've been stuck on this _metal_ ship. It's only a matter of time until it'll start to behave like proper metal and sink like it's supposed to! Doc J isn't simply cursed like Duo—he's just _insane_!_"_

"Thank you," I said dryly.

"You're welcome."

"Quatre has already searched the house from the top floor to the basement," Trowa replied. "He found nothing."

"But— we've been here for months and haven't made any progress at all," Wufei whined.

Trowa sighed and chewed thoughtfully on a frog leg. "I suppose you are right. Duo, did you get any information from Heero? About his father, if he's always lived on this island or if he's been wealthy at one point in his life?"

"Um... well, Trowa. Sort of. We are very busy at the moment with the distillery and … um... the distillery. Yes."

It was suddenly very silent at our table.

"Duo, was that a lie!?" Trowa and Wufei peered at me incredulously. The former was speechless, the latter had an eerily hopeful gleam in his black eyes.

"Um... I... well... you think so?"

"It sounded like a lie," Wufei said, almost grinning. "You are not _really _busy making rum, are you?"

"Ha! Of course not, Wu. I'm courting—... um, no I'm completely occupied with making rum, trust me."

"Duo, we are here to search for a treasure not to woo the belle of the village," Trowa said, in a voice that was indeed very compassionate, but brooked no argument.

"I know that," I told him.

Wufei snorted, but then, suddenly, his face brightened.

"There's one place Quatre hasn't looked into yet," he gushed. "It's not here, in the inn... It's the distillery!"

"Why yes, that's where Sawdown must have buried the gold. In fact, I might actually have seen it lying around somewhere... considering that I've spend almost three months draining sugar canes in there." I may not look it, but I'm quite capable of sarcasm.

"Why should he keep the map in his own house? It's just clever to hide it someplace safe and remote." Wufei gazed imploringly at Trowa. „Yes?"

Trowa looked torn, licking his spoon. It was a pointless venture and he knew it, but Wufei could be quite annoying. "Alright, Wufei, you can search the distillery. But take Duo with you. And in the meantime, I think I'll have another drop of that delicious lobster soup..."

* * *

Under the cloak of night, Wufei and I sneaked from the room we shared on one of the upper storeys of the Inn and hurried to the harbour. The little hut that served me and Heero as a distillery was spookily backdropped by a starless night sky. We crept along the outer wall until we got to one of the smashed windows overlooking the docks and climbed inside. Heero's distillation apparatus was still sitting at exactly the same spot where we had left it in the evening. Seeing it, I had to smile a little. Working with Heero was actually a lot of fun. I had never met anyone quite like him. He handled the bubbling, spitting and seething conglomeration of pipes and tubes and flasks and pots with astounding ease and expertise. And when it came to testing a new batch of shoddily distilled rum to check if it was safe enough to sell, Heero always snatched the first glass right from under my nose and gulped it down himself. We never even flipped a coin. Maybe he harboured a tendency to self-destruct or it was just his way of being nice, I never knew. He was either the bravest or most foolish man I'd ever known.

Wufei had already started exploring the tiny hut. But it was his idea, not mine, I reminded myself. If he was stupid enough to think he'd find a treasure in this hovel, he could look for it himself. Shuffling over to the cleanest part of the room, where Heero generally stored the spare parts he needed for the apparatus, I leaned against the only uncluttered piece of wall I could find and listlessly poked at a pile of scrap metal.

I had been standing there for just a minute or two when two things happened: a thin and eerily mournful sound arose, not at all dissimilar to someone being slowly strangled to death, and then the world was falling off its axis— a hand shot out and Wufei was grabbing my arm, pulling me away from a wide gap in the wall. I hurried to gain my footing and turned around. We peered at the gap. It was... a secret door!

Slowly and very quietly we drew nearer. Wufei gave the door a very gentle push. With the same keening moan the wooden boards swung backwards and admitted...

... a small sleeping figure, slumped over a pile of empty crates, surrounded by heaps of torn fishnets and ripped sailcloth. The light of a candle illuminated a dark tousled head nestled into the crook of a bony elbow, and five pale fingers clasping a tattered goose-quill that was slowly dripping a blot of black ink onto a rumpled sheet of yellowed paper. Next to the sleeping person sat a high stack of books, precariously perched on the topmost crate.

"But... that's Heero," I gasped, pulling at Wufei's sleeve.

"Shhhhtt!"

I chanced a quick look at Heero's face, but he was still sleeping.

Wufei made a step into the room and reached for one of the books that were littering the crate on which Heero's head rested. Turning back towards me, he mouthed something.

It sounded like "di-aree"... Oh!

Then Wufei began to tuck as many books as possible into his cloak while he was motioning for me to keep an eye on Heero. But... Heero looked so very young and vulnerable at that moment, with his tightly coiled fingers and his dripping and blotting quill... My heart was clenching painfully.

"... wufei," I wispered. "... that's not... that's not right..."

Wufei froze... and dropped a book.

A heartbeat later, Heero stirred.

Panic-stricken Wufei abandoned his plan and dumped most of the books on the floor. Two or three fell from his arms when he swung around and tried to make his escape though the secret door but he was still clinging to a very thick volume by the time he reached me. I glanced back into the room seeing Heero's eyelids flutter and slowly open, before Wufei pulled the door shut and hurried towards the broken window.

"Come on! Duo!" He turned back to me, gesticulating wildly. The last I saw of him was a clumsy shadow flinging itself through the window... and a smaller something hitting the window frame and fluttering gracelessly to the floor.

"... shit! Duo... get the _book_," cried a disgruntled voice from outside the hut. Automatically, I grabbed the thing, stuffed it into my own cloak pocket and dashed after Wufei.

Well, I fell on something, but I couldn't see what it was. It was pitch-black night.

"Where is the book," asked Wufei, from right beneath me.

"S-sorry, Wu." Embarrassed, I scrambled away from him.

"Doesn't matter... just give me the book."

"... um... the book…"

„Don't tell me you didn't get it!"

"Well... it was pretty dark in there."

"Oh no! No! Duo! It was his diary, for God's sake!"

"I'm sorry, Wu... really."

"... "

* * *

I do have to say, my intentions were honourable... at first. I did plan to return Heero's diary as soon as I'd figured out a way to do it without getting noticed. It was just that... I got curious after a while. Like 90 percent of the population in the supposedly 'civilized' Western world I wasn't even able to read or write my own name. In fact, I was thunderstruck to learn that Heero knew about such things. On Froog's Island! With such a father! "Thunderstruck" probably wasn't even enough to describe it.

To make a long story short: after two days of obsessing over it, I opened the book. I could tell, it was a fine specimen. I had already seen quite a lot of books in my short life. The larger European ships had bookshelves full of them. Of course, books weren't of primary interest for us pirates, but sometimes we took everything we could get. This book was thick and leather-bound, it smelled nice and the pages turned with a nice soft sound, like rustling leaves. Heero's handwriting was small, but clear and probably flawless. I turned to a random page near the end of the book and just looked at it for a while. Well, it was still indecipherable...

_... Diary,_

_today I had to fend off two unwanted advances. Not counting Zechs. So far he's tried: flowers (orchids, several unknown hibiscus types, sea weed), pearls (difficult to place), cakes & chocolate (... still mulling over whether to eat them or not...), a necklace, a pair of goblets (gold, bronze-plated), money. It's definitely getting worse. What should I do? Last time I had to take drastic measures—good thing for him to have a mask. All the same, I won't give him what he wants. It wouldn't be right. (Have to remember mother.) _

_I think, Duo is the strangest pirate I've ever met. Today, he told me a long story about his ship. It was called DeathScythe (all the ships Duo mentions have rather strange names so I probably shouldn't be surprised about that one). It was an Eastern ship, not as big as European ships, small and with a low hull, but Duo says he likes small things, even more so if they are unusual and exotic. He told me he "lost" his ship. Wonder what that means. How can anyone "lose" a ship? I told you, Duo is strange. He is still resisting in regard to the "Who's testing the moonshine?" question. It's bothering me._

After a minute or two I turned that page. Just looking at it was... kind of fun…

_... Diary,_

_must remember to get more sealing rings. Broke a glass flask yesterday... Duo's fault. He told me about his friend Wufei and how they all met. It's utterly impossible, but very funny. (I didn't laugh then. Of course. But I laughed in my room. 7 minutes. That's a record.) ... Don´t know what else to tell you. Zechs brought a jewel-box... a drunk pirate tried to grab me in the Inn. Looking forward to tomorrow, though. _

I turned the page.

_... Diary,_

_today was... strange. I think I may be falling ill. Something is definitely wrong with me. Duo told me a rather far-fetched story about the European women who live at the courts of England, France and Spain. He says, they wear embroidered dresses made of silk and brocade. Their hair is not only combed and washed with soap, but curled into loops and entwined with colourful ribbons. They smell nice and have clean faces. I don't like them. And I get very angry when I think about them being with Duo. And maybe a little... depressed. Maybe I should wash my face more often... and my hair... (but I can't possibly wear a ribbon, can I?) Also, I don't have anything nice to wear. I don't smell nice. My hands are callous. But I've never cared about such things. See what I mean? There's definitely something wrong with me._

The next page was the last written page.

_... Diary,_

_got new sealing rings. Tomorrow, we'll finish a new batch of rum. That means fighting over the first glass again... (how odd is that!) Today, Duo accidentally seared his front bangs. He started to scream and fling his arms about in funny gestures, then he was dashing through the door and a moment later I heard a splash of water. Didn't pull him out, though. Serves him right. _

_But I like Duo's hair. He always wears it in a braid. Makes me want to pull on it. I wonder if I should tell him about **it**. _

_He might be my only chance. _

Here I arrived at the very last entry. It consisted of only two sentences.

_... Diary,_

_I gathered further information. They have a seaworthy ship!_

* * *

Note: I was very motivated for the last week (...and I didn´t even have to watch "Pirates of the Caribbean":)...). Writing in English is so strenuous;) But the next chapter can be expected soon. We are approaching the first climax... Heero´s secret.


	6. covering

**Chapter 6: covering**

"Well, Heero, you know the rest. It was there that I met Hilde and lost my ship."

"You couldn't find it?" His mouth was twitching again.

I sighed. "I lost it in a card game."

And then I was heartbroken. It was a fine ship, not big but very fast and agile. I came by it during my time in Asia. For two years, we had a great time sailing and raiding the South Seas and then...

I guess I really shouldn't have played that hand on Hao (1). Hilde had dealt the cards. I only had two aces, but there was this _feeling_, this feeling that was nagging me. I was certain that the very next card, well, the very next card had to be the ace of spades. Up to the present day, I believe that the very next card _would_ have been the ace of spades - if Hilde hadn't dealt the cards. She was a formidable pirate and a hell of a woman but really quite vindictive.

Heero gave me a very strange guarded look. That had happened before, but after the first couple of weeks of story-telling I had deluded myself that looks like that were a thing of the past. Like scowling and "hn"-ing and insulting. Obviously, I had been wrong.

"You still have a ship, don't you? The _Heavyarms_."

"Huh? Oh, well, that's Trowa's."

„And your friend Quatre is first mate?"

"Yes. He is, after all, royalty."

"I see."

„Speaking of Quatre... you think they've dinner ready? I'm hungry! Want to call it a day?"

Okay, so it was not even dark outside and Heero never stopped working until an hour or two before midnight. Already bracing myself for the expected dismissal, I offered: "I mean we could have just a break if—"

"Alright, Duo. Let's finish for today."

"Huh?"

"Let's finish working."

„You're—um—coming with me? For dinner?"

"I will join you later."

"You will?"

His mouth twitched, almost smiling now. He nodded and quickly looked down at his working hands.

"Ok, I'll wait for you! God, let's just hope Zechs isn't there. Another night of his god-damn- offers and I..."

"Zechs is an acquaintance of my father. It's not wise to affront him."

I winked at him. "Another offer and he'll answer to _me_."

That only got me a glare.

"I wonder if he..."

Heero's being so talkative was so very rare that I was always eager to encourage him. "Yes?"

He looked up at me. „Do you think Zechs can... read?"

"Read?"

He nodded.

"Well, wasn't he working as a spy or something? I suppose you should be able to read in that line of business. Why?"

He looked down again. "Nevermind."

"Everthing okay?"

"Yes."

"Ok... I'll see you at dinner then!"

* * *

As I said before, Quatre had turned out to be a great cook. His chowder was delicious and his oriental shark steak delectable, but his frog ragout was a veritable dream. Trowa was slowly running to fat because of Quatre's cuisine and everyone else had gained a few pounds as well. With Heero's rum and Quatre's cooking, the Sailor's Inn was at the height of its success during that winter. On those nippy and rainy winter nights almost everybody seemed to be stuffing their faces with Quatre's newest food creations while getting drunk on potentially lethal moonshine.

Heero had promised to join us that night and I was very happy. Maybe he was getting used to the idea of having a friend. Maybe he had started to like my stories, God knows, it was about time. Most of my life had already turned into horrific seaman's yarn and it was getting increasingly difficult to surpass myself.

At the inn I had a brief and bloody tussle over an unoccupied two-seat table in a calmer corner of the bar room before ordering a trough of fish soup and three bottles of rum. Then, I sat back on my shaky wooden chair and waited for Heero.

I should have known that - like everything else about Heero – even something as simple as a dinner invitation couldn't possibly be simple enough. Quatre's soup was slowly growing cold while I waited for Heero's arrival. And then, I opened the first bottle of rum...

* * *

After an hour or two, Wufei dropped by and tried to sit down on the second chair, but I shooed him away. Since Trowa was far too occupied with getting stuffed by a happy, pleasure flushed Quatre to even notice him, Wufei had devoted himself to plaguing me.

"Wuu," I slurred at him. "Thaat'ssh Heero's sh-e-eat."

"Oh, really," he asked, very sarcastically.

"Uh-huh."

"And he's... where exactly?"

"I...dunno."

* * *

Around midnight, I grew tired of waiting. Dead drunk and frustrated, I decided to hop into bed and forget all about Heero and his abysmal interpersonal skills.

However, I acquiesced that before hopping into bed and forgetting Heero, it would be wise to answer the call of the three emptied bottles of rum.

* * *

It was very cold outside, very cold for the last rain-clouded days of a dank February on a frog-infested, mist-cloaked tropical island. West winds were angrily blowing from the open sea, chasing away the wafts of mist that forever hung around the place.

I walked for a short distance in the direction of the docks and then I stopped and stared unhappily at the new-found stars.

If I hadn't been so drunk, I would never have stumbled without actually moving, but as matters stood I was wasted. Still gazing at the stars, I suddenly lost my footing and found myself tumbling towards the dirty ground.

On my way down I first noticed the shadows moving in the darkness of the nearby alleyway. I certainly hadn't paid enough attention before… Luckily, I wasn't a thief for nothing. Survival instincts kicking in, I crouched soundlessly behind a hovel. When I peered back around the corner, I saw a deeper spot of black among the lighter shadows of the surrounding houses. Furiously rubbing at my bleary eyes, I tried to determine the exact shape and substance of the strange thing… when it began to speak.

"He's gone. God, what was he doing there, standing around like an idiot?"

"That is irrelevant. What do you want?"

"Oh, come on! You **know** what I want!"

"Hn… I don't think so."

"Spit it out, Heero!"

"No."

"I'm warning you. I'll use force if you—"

"Let. Me. Go!"

"Why, you—"

And then, another instinct of mine kicked in, the instinct to protect Heero at all costs, and I jumped to my feet and flung myself at the wobbly shadows without thinking.

* * *

(1) Hao is part of the Western Taumotu Archipelago


	7. the

**Chapter 7: the**

My face smashed into a pointy elbow that almost stabbed my right eye before I even had the chance to grab Heero's attacker. Dazed and half-blinded, I was fumbling around in the darkness when uncannily efficient hands pushed me back into a strangling pair of arms that were very eager to choke me. Very rapidly, it was getting unnaturally dark... While Heero and the alley were floating from my consciousness and I contemplated mumbling my last prayers, something very fortunate happened though... A heavy boot was ruthlessly slammed on the toes of my non-flailing foot. "Ouuuuuuuuch," I wailed, completely forgetting my lightheadedness. Then a battering ram in the shape of a knee hit my cracking ribcage, hurling my body, and everything attached to it, to the ground. The pair of arms that had wrapped themselves so snugly around my throat dissolved as a piteous coughing fit erupted from right below me:

"Heero, you bastard *cough*! Why must you always resort to violence *cough* *cough*? That's *whimper* rude!"

"Hn. Duo, step away from him." Well, he actually meant "crawl down from him" and I hurried to comply. Sucking in a mouthful of crisp and humid night air, I quickly recovered from near-strangulation, shaking my head to get rid of the slightly unsettling double vision. Zechs was lying brokenly on the rubbish-strewn pavement.

"Get up," Heero growled. He had a very imposing growl. It gave me goose-flesh. And an erection. In my head, Heero was growling "Get it up, Duo!" in a huge bed with millions of fluffy pillows while the less scantily clothed and sadly un-aroused real him was getting ready to tear Zechs to pieces.

"I said get up!"

"I already am!"

Zechs and Heero turned to look at me oddly.

"Hehehehe... nevermind. Don't let me interrupt you."

"Ah, the same goes for me," Zechs offered from his sprawled position on the ground. "Unfortunately, I have to go now... while I can still use my feet... See you!" He scrambled to his feet and hurriedly limped away.

Heero made no move to follow him. Brushing microscopic particles of dust from his shirt-sleeve, he said the words that have been enshrined in my memory ever since: "Duo, I have a proposition for you. Let's go to your room."

Ok, so I only heard the words "proposition" and "your room", which were quickly transformed in my head to "proposition" and "bedroom" and then, miraculously, to "hot passionate sex on/in/against/next to your bed for hours and hours on end."

"Um... sure, Heero. Why don't you proposition me in my bedroom. Um... I mean, why don't we position you in my bedroom. Ahem... Let's just go."

* * *

Trowa, Quatre, Wufei and I lived in two shabby, largely unfurnished rooms on the inn's third floor. When the Atlantic sea winds were blowing a little more vigorously – which was almost always the case – the unfirm structure of the provisionally built inn was swaying and shaking along with their eastward movements.

"Well, there is not much in here," I tried to apologize to Heero when I let him through the creaking door into the gloomy room I shared with Wufei. "Save for the bed, I mean. There's a bed, of course, but it's pretty empty."

"It will suffice."

"The bed?"

"Hn."

"Hn-yes or Hn-no?"

"Duo."

"Yes?"

"It is time that we spoke about my mother."

"… Your mother?"

Heero nodded. As if a chat about one's mother was a generally accepted version of foreplay.

"Well, that's rather odd, you know. But... I mean if that's what you'd want to do. Tell me about your mother. You… hm... you never really talk about her." That was an understatement. He never really talked. Full stop.

Heero shrugged his slight shoulders in a way that suggested that my statement was highly inconsequential, and then he said: "She gave me directions for- for situations such as this."

Oh.

"Heero, it's pretty simple really. As a matter of fact, I know quite a few things about... um... situations such as this. I'm ... hehehe... quite good at it, you know."

"You are?" Here he looked slightly surprised.

"Hey, I'm doing it all the time..."

"Really?" On his face was a mildly startled expression.

"Ah, no no no! Not since I met you! I mean I couldn't do this with anyone else-"

Unexpectedly, Heero interrupted me. "Of course you couldn't."

Pretty self-confident, don't you think?

After a pause, he sat down on my comforter (which was in a very poor condition since a nightly rat had taken to nibble on it) and started to fidget a little. It was time that I soothed his fears and ravished him.

"Heero-"

"Duo-"

"Oh, I'm sorry. You go first," I offered politely, trying to dazzle him with gallantry.

Quite expectedly, Heero appeared unimpressed. "My mother adviced me that I should always be on my guard against strangers." His hands hurried up to his collar and back again to his lap.

"That's a very reasonable attitude, Heero."

"She said I should be especially wary with men that were interested in my body." He stated earnestly while his right hand was back at his shirt collar, playing around with it in an indescribably unsettling manner.

"Um. Yeah. That's even more reasonable." The first button of Heero's shirt had just slipped from its button hole under his insistent fumbling.

"Duo, you must understand that my body is very... valuable."

Swallowing thickly, I mumbled: "Oh, I believe you, no doubt about that."

Button number two joined button number one on the other side of their respective button holes and I stared at Heero's bare throat that slowly emerged from the gap between both shirt seams.

"'Be careful whom you show it to, Heero,' my mother told me."

"..._croak_..."

Button three and button four slipped free. A single tug on the right hem and Heero's shirt was now officially unclosed. Wow. Wow. How did that happen?

"'Choose your partner very wisely.'" My eyes were staring at Heero's fingers that had somehow insinuated themselves between the buttons of his trousers.

"You are making me nervous, Heero." One adventurous index finger was presently pushing at the waistband of Heero's trousers.

"'Mutual trust is crucial in this matter.'" Trousers were down.

Blushing furiously and trying to speak above the noise of blood rushing, torrent-like, passed my ears on its free fall from my brain to my... feet.

"Y-you can trust me, Heero. I never..." _used to_ "lie..." _before I met you_.

He didn't even seem to listen to my stammering self, but rattled through his mother's list of requirements for having sexual intercourse with her son: "'If you can find one, choose an honourable man, Heero. Make sure you don't get duped.'"

"Oh, I'd never—" Heero was wearing the most horribly mended briefs I had ever seen on anyone, but love-struck as I was, I only found them very endearing... ahem... among other things. My voice was bailing out on me the moment he hooked his fingers around the waistband of said briefs and started to wiggle out of them.

God.

"'And what's most important...'"

God.

"'... make sure he has a SHIP.'"

"Huh?" Heero was naked. But he was talking absolute nonsense. And he was also naked... talking absolute nonsense... but definitely naked. My brain had trouble getting around to acknowledge those facts seeing that it was virtually drained of blood.

"A fast ship. As fast as possible," said Heero, naked as he was.

"Very reasonable," was all I could think of. I guess it still stuck around somewhere in my brain from before. In fact, it really was quite reasonable. Heero's mother would want her son provided for. A ship definitely was a sign of financial security – as were a whole lot of other things, such as mansions, titles, land and jewellery, but the poor woman was probably dying or in a similarly extreme situation when she had felt it necessary to give her son advice on whom to have sex with, her thoughts had a right to get a little muddled considering the circumstances... right?


	8. Secret

**Chapter 8: Secret**

„You meet all the requirements, Duo. You are loyal and reasonably honourable - for a pirate. I don't see why I shouldn't do business with you."

"Business?—" My voice was embarrassingly close to a shriek. What was he talking about? He didn't have to pay for sleeping with me! And I certainly wouldn't pay, not I! Never! Um… not _really_ never... I mean, I was pretty sure I was in love with Heero and if he _really _insisted— now, wait a second, Heero was a prostitute?

But... but if he sold his body for money, how many lovers had Heero had and did his father force him to sell his body or had his mother—his own mother? Suddenly the words 'My body is very valuable.' took on a whole new meaning.

"I guess, you'll want to see what I can offer you. Then you can decide if you're interested."

I must admit I just stared at him. My poor, poor Heero.

"Okay," he said, smoothing out my crinkled sheets. "It's time I turned around now."

"T-t-t-tt-urned aa-around?"

Heero didn't reply (as a matter of fact, there was nothing much to reply to). He just turned around and draped himself over my blanket.

God, he was beautiful. Pale, smooth, beautiful skin everywhere I looked... but this was Heero I was staring at. Poor innocent Heero who had to sell his body in order to please his wretched parents! So, while I was still gazing greedily at Heero's beauty, I spluttered:

"Heero, maybe you should reconsider! I mean, if it's about your father or, worse yet, your mother, I'm sure we'll find a way— I mean, don't be reckless, I mean... um...— hey, you sure have a very peculiar tattoo on your back, Heero, did you know that? _He he_... kind of like... tiny... footprints? That's funny, you know, this really reminds me of... I mean, this really looks... just... like..."

... a map?

A MAP!

THE MAP!

Oh!

Oh...

"W-why exactly are you naked, Heero?"

"To convince you to do business with me, Duo," he mumbled into my comforter.

"Business..."

"What else do you think I am doing here, lying naked on your bed, Duo," said Heero, voice muffled. "It's drafty in here, so if you would look at the map now. I'd like to get dressed again."

"Of course." I hurried over to him. "How did you know that we... could be interested in a map or a treasure."

"Duo, I'm not stupid. Why would you be here of all mysterious Atlantic islands? You may not be particularly clever, but even you aren't so stupid as to sail around completely without a plan or purpose."

"Thank you," I said.

"The final evidence was the disappearance of my diary. For a while, I suspected Zechs... Zechs, however, wouldn't have been content with the possession of my diary. Finding me asleep and without protection, he'd probably have assaulted me."

"Thanks again, I think..."

"No need for thanks, Duo. Taking advantage of you is a more efficient way to attain my goals than waiting until your snooping around the island alerts my father."

I sighed unhappily. Heero hadn't mysteriously fallen in love with me. He wanted to do business with me. And all that pale, smooth and beautiful skin was to be considered nothing more than a land map...

Heero's right shoulder was marked by a tousled clew of shaky black lines and tiny red dots in the shape of footprints. The footprints padded along a winding route along Heero's spinal cord, crisscrossing a lot of scrawly black lines and eventually hopping down the soft slope of Heero's lower back... to disappear.

As a pirate I recognized a mysterious treasure map when I saw one. But where was the X that was supposed to mark the spot? Heero shifted a little and I squinted at him more closely. Ah, theeeere it was.

* * *

Finally! The map has been found:)

at Toola: Thank you very much for your encouragement!:)) You were right about the map!


	9. Find

**Chapter 9: Find**

As much as I hated the idea of a naked Heero being ogled by anyone but myself, I knew that Trowa, Quatre and Wufei had to be informed about this new and frankly speaking quite bizarre turn of events.

"Heero," I said politely, valiantly trying not to sound too regretful, "you, um, should get dressed now and then we should go and see the others. We... have a lot to talk about."

"Ok", Heero mumbled, still somewhat embarrassed about lying stark naked and face-down in front of me... on my bed... showing off his tattooed backside.

"Right then, I... guess I'll just wait outside. Take your time." Half embarrassed, half hurt by Heero's obvious discomfort, I hurriedly fled the room. Curiously enough, at that moment even such a marvellous thing as finding a heap of gold and getting filthy rich paled in comparison to the dream of having the person you care about love you in return. For a pirate, that was a truly staggering thought.

* * *

As expected, Quatre, Trowa and Wufei were elated to learn that the much sought after map was finally within our grasp – figuratively speaking.

"Let me see it," Wufei enthused, obviously thrilled to get rid of his job at Doc J's shipyard before it was too late and the strange ship really lived up to its promise and sank like a stone.

"NO WAY!" The words were out before I even noticed and everyone was staring at me oddly.

"Well, I mean, Heero was really uncomfortable doing it the first time, we... shouldn't force him to get naked all the time."

"No one is thinking of forcing him, Duo. And certainly not all the time." Quatre replied reasonably.

"I guess so, but, come on, I told you it's there, so you don't really need to look at it again, right? Don't you trust me?"

"That's actually an interesting question..."

"Wufei. We are through with his topic."

"Thanks, Quatre."

He sighed. "Don't mention it. Ok, we should get back to what's important now. The map... before Heero changes his mind."

After much back and forth, it was decided that the map would have to be transcribed first before we could get down to the business of deciphering it. Someone had to redraw the tattooed map on Heero's back on paper, which basically meant starring at his naked body for hours on end and I was eager to volunteer.

"I don't mind doing it," I offered. Which was an understatement if there ever was one.

This time, however, Trowa chimed in. "No, I think Quatre should do that, he knows how to read and write, it could be useful."

"Yeah, I know, but—"

And then, something really remarkable happened. Heero, who had been silent so far and had not really contributed to the conversion unless necessary, spoke up.

"I agree. Mr. Quatre should do it." His face was as expressionless as ever as he said it, but I hadn't spend months distilling rum with Heero for nothing and so I caught the tiny nervous flicker in his eyes when the rest of his face remained perfectly impassive. Heero was feeling so uncomfortable getting naked in my presence that he went out of his way to ensure that the situation would not repeat itself, while I was clutching at every straw available to see that it did.

A horrible, painful sensation gripped me then, similar to falling into a frigid sea and forgetting to breathe because of the cold. Or the shock at realizing you just lost your precious ship because of one unlucky hand of cards. I'm sure if I hadn't known before that I liked Heero, I would have realized it then. Hurt by what was not even an open rejection but just Heero's taciturn way of brushing off another suitor, I tried to at least save my pride.

"A-alright", I croaked completely undignified. "It's no big deal. Quatre can do it."

The matter was settled. Yet despite the advanced hour, there was another exceedingly important matter that had to be addressed before anyone even thought about going to bed, and Wufei wasted no time addressing it...

"If we find the treasure, we'll split the profits equally?"

* * *

This story will soon get an award for longevity;) Well, I felt really sorry for it (and all the effort I poured into it O_O''), so I decided to once and for all finish it. Whether you want to take that as a threat or a promise, is up to you:)


	10. ing

warnings: Relena! Lots of drinking

* * *

**Chapter 10: ing**

"If we find the treasure, we'll split the profits equally?"

"You get 20%." Quatre replied.

"..."

"..."

"Wait, didn't he say -"

"20 % _means _splitting equally, Duo."

"Okay." Well, I've already told you about the abysmally low level of education among us pirates, haven't I?

"Everyone gets an equal share of the treasure no matter how much or little that may be," Trowa clarified patiently and obviously considered the issue settled.

"I'm not interested in the treasure. You can have my share," someone suddenly said and four heads snapped to attention.

"HUH?"

"I said I don't want my share. You can have it," Heero repeated seriously.

"Heero," I began, determinedly trying not to let my professional greediness get the better of me.

"Well, if he _really_ doesn't want it—"

"We should honour his decision—"

"Duo said not to force him, so we shouldn't—"

"H-Heero," I tried again. "Um, this is not exactly... logical. The map has been tattooed on _your _back after all. Without you, we wouldn't have anything. So... why?"

"If I had been interested in gold, I could have just as well accepted the offers of my suitors." Which were, as you know, quite numerous. "And it is exactly _because_ the map has been tattooed on my _back_ that I require your help."

Heero's logic was undeniably flawless and I caught the others nodding enthusiastically.

"Well, but what's in it for you then?" I must admit I had this wild hope that he would say he did it for me, but well, this is Heero we're talking about and, anyway, he had already made it more than clear that he didn't care for me at all.

"When we find the treasure and you sail back to Europe, I would like to accompany you. That's all."

"Oh, so you would like to travel," Quatre asked brightly.

"No. In Europe, I intend to procure a ship and become a pirate like the four of you."

Well. That was a surprise... I mean, Heero was not exactly weak or defenceless (Zechs and myself could attest to that), but with his slender frame and adorable face he also didn't strike you as a fearsome pirate. And if he wanted something – anything really – he certainly wouldn't have to threaten someone or extort it by force, he would just have to ask one of his admirers and repay them with one of his rare smiles. They would fall over themselves to please him, myself included.

The others were obviously thinking the exact same thing and so Heero's revelation was only met with polite silence.

"Ok," Trowa eventually said. "I think we can all agree to Heero's terms?"

Everyone nodded vigorously.

* * *

The next day passed rather uneventfully. Then, in the late evening, Quatre swapped his ladle for a goose quill and left with Heero to draw the map.

I thought about joining a group of pirates, who were just getting drunk and boisterously chanted one bawdy song after the other, but did not really feel like company. Instead, I retired to a much quieter corner of the room to nurse my broken heart and a bottle of rum.

You see, I might have had dozens of more or less successful love affairs, but I'd never had my heart broken before. As a pirate, you cannot even afford to have a heart—let alone allow someone to break it. So I decided to drown my sorrows in alcohol and maybe they wouldn't hurt so much that way. After an hour or so of excessive drinking, Wufei and Trowa, who had worked overtime that day and had just finished their dinner, came over and helped themselves to some of my rum. I was far too drunk already to stop them.

"They aren't finished yet," Trowa asked after his second glass, sounding mildly astonished.

"Obvioushhly... no."

"Ah, don't worry. Probably takes some time." He was certainly trying to be nice, but only made me feel worse.

"Oh, r-r-really?" I slurred, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Quatre probably had to take a lot of measurements," Wufei supplied.

"Meashhurements." I bet, he did.

"And the map practically covers his entire back, doesn't it? Duo?"

I sighed, remembering. "Yessh, I does-sh."

"Well then, no need to worry."

Right... I decided to take him at his word and resumed my drinking with renewed enthusiasm. The bottle was empty surprisingly soon and I staggered to my feet, announcing that I would get some more.

"Jussht a minute. Be riiight back!"

I was on my way to the bar when I spotted a particularly cheerful group of card players, and, on a whim, decided that it wouldn't be such a bad idea to join them for a friendly game or two. It had been such a long-long time since I'd gamb— I mean, played cards and _one_ harmless little game wouldn't hurt anyone. Suddenly in much higher spirits, I commended myself for my very reasonable way of thinking. It really seemed that I had finally put my addi- my pronounced fondness for games of chance behind me and, I realized drunkenly, it had been surprisingly easy. So I left two bottles of rum at Trowa's and Wufei's table and purposefully staggered back to the card players, quickly making my introductions and joining the very next game.

After the fourth game, I had somehow completely forgotten that I had originally just wanted to stay for a short time; after the sixth, I could barely remember anything at all. Because, believe it or not, for the first time in a long while, I won hands down! You know what they say: Lucky at cards, unlucky in love. Well, that was exactly what had happened to me and the most curious thing was that the more I drank, the luckier I got. I'm sure I would have made a fortune that night, if anyone had actually played for gold coins instead of tin buttons and crooked copper spoons... Still, I was deliriously happy and my worries seemed to dissolve like cigar smoke.

At one point, however, my vision grew somewhat hazy and the ear-splitting noise around me (caused to a considerable degree by my unhappy co-players, who were loath to part with their cutlery) seemed to die down a little. Some time after that, my memory begins to fail me... I still vaguely remember a blond girl in a horrible pink dress, smiling rather peculiarly and looking disturbingly smitten with something... and about there, my memory stops altogether. But considering what happened afterwards, I am quite lucky that it did...

* * *

_I could really really really need a beta reader, so if anyone would like to help me, I would be eternally grateful! (English is not my native language and it takes hours to check and re-check everything... literally.)_


	11. a

warning: Relena, shockingly ooc (like pretty much everyone else^^)

* * *

I was back in France, ensconced in one of those pretentiously luxurious and enormous four poster beds with a myriad of silken pillows and burgundy brocade draperies... the room was dark and quiet and cozy, in a slightly fuzzy, diffuse sort of way, as if everything, including my ears, mouth and brain, were filled with soft and smothering cotton wool... but the very best thing about the bed, the room and the cozyness was that Heero, beautiful and for once agreeable, was lying on top of me... wearing a tremendous pink dress and smelling of rum, sea water and... perfume? That was strange. But rather inconsequential. Dress or not, it was still Heero sprawling on top of me and I intended to make good use of the enormous bed and have my wicked way with him... Drowsily, I cracked one eye open and lifted my hand towards an exotically tattooed and deliciously naked shoulder and was just about to grab Heero and kiss him senseless when an ear-splittingly shrill scream assaulted my sleep deprived, sadly hung over brain and almost caused me to pass out.

"Where do you think you're touching, you lecher?"

Either the self-made rum I had knocked back like water the night before (and many nights before that night) had finally started to dissolve my sense organs or Heero's voice had somehow miraculously acquired a falsetto – in any case, the scream sounded suspiciously... _female_.

Alarmed, I forced my eyes open again and blinked owlishly around myself.

I was indeed lying on a nice and comfortable bed, surrounded by soft and pliant pillows (light red ones with gold tassels), and there was someone on top of me, scantily dressed in a sea of pink ruffles, but it certainly wasn't Heero.

Politely, I removed my hand from a frill-covered thigh and spluttered something incomprehensible.

"Good grief, an imbecile." The fair-haired woman lying halfway across my upper body propped herself up on one elbow and rolled her eyes. I was in no shape to contradict her, my mind was far too busy trying to figure out why I had woken up in a dry proper bed with a semi-nude and unfamiliar woman sprawling on top of me and no recollection whatsoever of how, when and why she and I had ended up like this. Truth be told, this situation was not entirely unfamiliar, I had woken up with hangovers and female company before (after all, I had always been rather fond of drinking and women), but most of the time I at least remembered chatting them up or talking to them or... well, meeting them. And anyway, after I had lost my heart to Heero, who was quite possibly the love of my life, I had somehow assumed that alcohol-induced, anonymous sex was a thing of the past... obviously that was not so. But speaking of...

"Heero!"

He absolutely couldn't, mustn't ever – as in _over-my-dead-body_-ever – find out about this, or—

"Oh no, not again..."

"Beg your pardon?"

"What is wrong with all of you? Why must every reasonably handsome man on this frog-infested, god-forsaken island be fawning over my BROTHER?" My presumed conquest seemed to harbor some deep frustrations about Heero's fabulous popularity among the islanders and I couldn't really fault her, being Heero's sister would certainly frustrate me to no end.

"You're Heero's sister? Your name's Relena, right?"

The woman turned red like a lobster.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! I'm his HALF-sister! We don't even look alike. Which you would have noticed if you had looked at me properly, but obviously you didn't even manage that much!" That was true, but then again just a minute ago she had almost bitten my head off for barely touching her shoulder. Women could be so incredibly complicated sometimes... Anyway, I had far more important things to think about at that moment. If she was Heero's sister that meant that I had not only cheated on Heero, but cheated on him with his own kin! How much more horrible could it get?

"Dear god! I mean, no offence, but did we- I mean, did you a-and I, did we-" I squirmed uncomfortably.

Relena harrumphed and only shrugged her naked shoulders. (Which I had tried to fondle only two minutes earlier, I realized with dread.)

"Oh, no, no, no, god, no! We couldn't have—well, we _could_, but…", I floundered, on the verge of surrendering to full-blown, headless desperation.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself! You were out like a light before I even managed to drag you here, far too drunk too walk, much less do... anything else. It's always the same! First they drink like there's no tomorrow and then they fall asleep on you before you can get their shoes off! One of these days, I'll get away from here and find a place where men actually look at you without seeing you double and don't get sick on your bed or your dress or mistake you for your brother! I mean—" Well, I didn't really listen to her beyond her first angry exclamations. A dizzying wave of relief was crashing over me, momentarily numbing my senses and when I recovered enough to check the state of my clothes (just to make sure), I realized that – despite my rumbled attire and the fact that my boots and socks were missing – I was still mostly dressed.

"Um, I don't want to interrupt you, Miss, but... where are we exactly? I've got to hurry back before... people start to worry about me." Or Heero notices that I spent the night in his sister's bed, in said sister's arms, dead drunk, but still.

Relena's shoulders slumped and her rant came to a halt in mid-sentence. When it became more and more unlikely that she would answer my question, I leaned forward a bit and chanced a quick look into her down turned face. It was scrunched up in a grimace, but her cheeks were suspiciously damp. Damn.

Even though she had practically abducted me to have sex with her while I was barely even conscious, I just couldn't let a woman cry just because I wouldn't sleep with her. (It certainly stroked my ego, even though Relena's taste in men didn't strike me as very discriminating.)

"I'm sorry, Miss. Look, half a year ago I would have jumped at the chance to, hm... get to know you better. There is nothing wrong with you, it was just really bad timing." I awkwardly petted her back and made an attempt to get the pink puff sleeve, which had slipped halfway down her upper arm, back onto her shoulder. How strange, I thought. She really was tattooed there, I hadn't imagined it before when I had tried to cuddle up to her. Well, she was the daughter of a pirate living in a pirates' nest. Everyone on the island probably sported a tattoo or two, nothing strange about it at all. The design, however, was rather uninspired: a string of tiny, spidery numbers…

"I don't need your pity!", Relena groused, impatiently slapping my hand away from her dress. "You have five minutes to get your things and get lost before I go and tell my father!"

"What? Hey, it was you who-"

"Fine. Four minutes. You better hurry."

I opened my mouth to protest, then thought better of it and hastily clambered out of bed (no easy feat considering its size). I almost broke my neck trying to put on socks and boots while stumbling towards the door, circumventing a lilac dressing table and foot stool on the way. Once there, I tore the door open and fell through it... to land in a familiar looking hallway. It was the Sailor's Inn! Or at least one of its many hallways… I just had to get back to my room before the others got up. Judging by the twilight in Relena's room, it was still rather early. With some luck, I would be back in my bed feigning sleep long before the first parrots started to crow over the island. Carefully looking around myself, I ventured down the hallway and sneaked downstairs, through the barroom and up another flight of stairs and then another and another and another, round a corner and there was the room I shared with Wufei! Swallowing nervously, I drew the door halfway open and slipped through, finding my roommate wrapped in his blankets and hugging my straw pillow.

* * *

When I woke up the second time that morning, it was to find Quatre, Trowa, Wufei and Heero sitting around a three foot long piece of paper, pointing around excitedly, making sweeping hand gestures and babbling all at once without listening at all. I dragged myself out of bed and joined them on the wooden floor, curious to see what the commotion was about.

They were looking at the map, which had been hand-drawn on the rear pages of what used to be Quatre's cookbook, but now was a riotously colourful collage of torn paper scraps loosely glued together with gruel.

"That's ... the map, right?" I wanted to make sure that is really was what it looked like, or didn't look like, actually.

While Quatre glared at me, Wufei grabbed my arm and presented me with a second scroll, which was much shorter than the first.

"Take a look at this! We managed to adjust the measurements on Heero's back to allow for his vertical growth in the last 13 years of his life, since he got the tattoo."

I hadn't thought of that, but if Heero had been tattooed as a child, the map must have been considerably distorted while he was growing up. The modified map was a simple depiction of islands, shallows, whirlpools and exotic rock formations, with mermaids and sea monsters littered in between. A wiggly path of tiny footprints led through the clutter of distinctive landmarks to a bold black X sign. It looked just like any other treasure map I had ever seen in my life.

"Heero told us that he got the tattoo when he was five," Quatre said. "He was staying with his mother at that time while his father was off adventuring. None of his father's friends and business associates actually knew that he had a wife and a little boy somewhere in the South Seas. That's why his father probably thought that his secret son would be the perfect safe keeper of his map– it wouldn't get lost or easily destroyed and no one knew about Heero anyway. However, it seems that Heero's mother, a capable and enterprising lady herself, had her own designs on the gold… She took her son and started to look for the treasure herself when..." Quatre hesitated for a moment, glancing in Heero's direction and I had a very bad feeling about what he'd say next.

"...when my father discovered that we were missing, went after us and took revenge on my mother."

"What did he do to her?"

"He abandoned her without food and water on a deserted island in the middle of the sea and took me with him on his ship."

"Oh Heero, I'm so sorry!" There was nothing I could have said to comfort him, it certainly was a terrible thing to do, a pirate thing, and not at all uncommon.

"No reason to feel sorry. I know my mother. She found a way to leave the island or the means to survive there."

"Oh, I'm _sure_ she did." Lying for Heero was too easy. And if it made it more bearable for him to think that his mother somehow saved herself, I certainly wouldn't contradict him.

"Ok, so now that we have the map, why were you quarrelling just now?"

"We weren't quarrelling!", Wufei protested. "I only mentioned that this string of small islands in the top left corner look almost like those small islands near Madagascar..."

"Which are thousands of sea miles from here." Trowa intercepted.

"But I've seen a very similar rock formation to this one here in the North Sea," Quatre chipped in hopefully. His twitching intensified with his exitement. "And it would only take us half the time to go there!"

"You know, this would be so much easier if we actually had the exact coordinates. These islands and rocks could be anywhere..."

"Wait, there were no coordinates?"

"No, there weren't."

"Damn. If we had the coordinates..."

"Yep. It would be a piece of cake."

And then it hit me.

Coordinates. Longitude and Latitude. Numbers!

Damn, damn, damn!

"Um... actually, I might know where to find them..."


	12. Trea

warnings: the usual ooc-ness, more of Relena, jealous!Heero

* * *

„So, you're trying to say that you actually know where the coordinates are but you can't tell us because…"

"… it's complicated." I ventured a glance in Heero's direction.

"Right." There it was again… Incredulity tinged with lots of sarcasm.

"All I can say is that I had an intima- I mean- *interesting* encounter last night which proved to be quite… quite… revealing," I offered.

"Aha."

"Well. If Duo refuses to tell us where the coordinates are, I say it's up to him to get them," suggested Quatre, his right eye twitching somewhat maliciously.

"Erm…"

"That's a fantastic idea, Quatre," Trowa chimed in, not a little love-struck. Wufei nodded enthusiastically in agreement while Heero… just looked his usual stoic self.

"Ok, it's settled then," Quatre resumed. "You have a week to sort this out, Duo. Or *we* will." I must admit he could be quite intimidating when he had a mind to.

Well, that's how I came to spend every minute not occupied with Heero and distilling rum in Relena's company, reluctantly trying to get into her pants- or rather her outrageously pink dresses. You could say I *courted* her, which was difficult enough since she had - quite inexplicably - decided to behave with impeccable modesty for once. I accompanied her on long, long walks all around the island, listening half-heartedly to her equally long monologues about her plans for the future at one of the fashionable courts of Europe, joined her and her girl friends, most of them notorious piratesses, for tea spiked with generous amounts of rum and had meals with her in her father's inn. Yet despite my valiant efforts I just managed to find out that Relena apparently planed to have a career as a coveted court lady and was very fond of rum, all in all not very helpful information. The only good thing about the whole situation was that the islanders, who hadn't been particularly nice to me since I got the opportunity to send so much time with Heero, the object of their collective affections, began to warm towards me when they noticed that I had obviously directed my attentions towards Heero's sister.

The most depressing thing about my unwilling courtship was that Heero began to treat me rather more shabbily than usual. He was less eager to listen to my stories even though I tried to make them as captivating and gripping as possible, basically making them up out of thin air by now, inventing adventures, intrigues, treasure hunts and love affairs as I went along… but all to no avail.

It all started on an evening a couple of days after the fateful night I had spent unconscious in Relena's bed. When the sun was just about to set and Heero and I were not even close to finishing our work for the day, Heero suddenly dropped the piece of tubing he'd been fiddling with and declared that he was hungry and that now would be the best time to go over to the inn and have dinner. To say that I was surprised would have been an understatement. I don't have to remind you that Heero had refused all my dinner invitations since the first day of our acquaintance (with the exception of that memorable, surreal evening when he got naked in my room to show me the map). Then again, Heero had not actually invited me to join him, he'd merely stated that he intended to have dinner, quite possibly without any of his annoying suitors and these included me.

Secretly heaving a lovelorn sigh, I replied, quite eloquently: "Um…okay."

"I assume you're not hungry."

"Well, I am, but-"

"You're going to have dinner with my sister."

"No! I mean, yes… I do, but-"

"I understand." And that's when he took up the piece of tubing he'd dropped and resumed tinkering with our distillation apparatus.

"Didn't you say you were hungry…?"

"Hn. Yes, I did."

"So… you're not going to have dinner?"

"No."

Well, Heero certainly was an enigma. Following that evening, he behaved almost *moodily* if indeed it was possible for Heero to be anything less than aloof and composed. He still insisted to try the newly distilled rum before me, bravely facing death on an almost daily basis, but all the progress I thought we had made, spending so much time together and telling stories, seemed to have been lost.

Pretty soon, the whole situation became so depressing that I began to drown my misery in barrels of rum and started gambling again as if there were no tomorrow, winning a whole lot of worthless trinkets and even more tin buttons until there was basically no pirate with properly buttoned shirts or jackets on the whole island...


	13. su

warning: Relena and Duo in a kind-of-compromising situation;)

* * *

„Mr. Maxwell, would you stop fiddling around with my sleeve!" Relena angrily slapped away my exploring hand.

"Sorry, Miss. There was… a bug."

We were sitting on the waterfront, watching the fishing boats bringing in their catch while the sun made its languorous descent into the sea. The scenery had great potential for romance, unfortunately the company was wrong.

"Will you go back to Europe soon," Relena asked pensively, casting a dreamy look at the dramatic sunset. Probably fantasizing about her fashionable life in London or Versailles.

"Well, that's… difficult to say. It depends on— lots of things."

"Like what?"

"Oh, things like the weather," I hedged, searching for a suitably evasive answer, "the sea conditions and… and our… relationship." Which really was nothing but the truth. Our departure was only delayed because I still hadn't managed to get a look at the coordinates tattooed on Relena's shoulder. And the week was almost over. By now I was resorting to increasingly pitiable schemes to catch a glimpse of the tattoo - like pretending to fend off bugs...

"I'm glad that you finally address this topic," Relena replied happily. "I've been thinking, Mr. Maxwell!"

"Oh no..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I've noticed that you're not completely… indifferent to my person, which shows that you have excellent taste, by the way. More than I've first given you credit for." The girl was self-confident, you had to hand it to her.

"I guess, you could put it that way," I replied cautiously.

"Oh, I knew it," Relena cried, bubbling over with sudden enthusiasm, and eagerly grabbed my hands. "Then, you'll take me back with you to Europe?"

"Erm, Miss—"

"Oh, let's skip the formalities!"

Now it was my turn to slap away her hands. "Mi-iss Relena—"

"'_Relena_,'" she corrected and rather forcefully tried to embrace me.

"I-I have to insist—"

"Oh yes, please insist—"

Clutching at straws, I cried: "I-I really can't take you with me!"

"Because?"

"Because… because—"

"See? There's no reason not to!"

Good God, why didn't Heero have a shred of her pushiness? Here goes nothing... "I-I'm in love with someone else!"

"Doesn't matter."

"It doesn't?"

"I don't want to marry you either!"

"You don't?"

Suddenly, I was no longer sure who was taking advantage of whom in this relationship.

Relena calmed down a little and reluctantly released me. "Once I get to Europe I'll have my choice of men – dukes, counts, a king or two – I can't possibly settle for a pirate, Mr. Maxwell. But (and here her eyes glinted a little dangerously) we might have… a 'business arrangement.'" Well, the two siblings were obviously more alike than they imagined. Another business arrangement…

"What do you have in mind, Miss Relena?"

"You'll take me back with you to Europe, to the royal court of England or France or Spain - I don't care which – and in return…"

"In return," I said, boldly seizing the opportunity, "I get to see you naked."

* * *

Relena accepted my unusual request with admirable serenity ("That *all*? You could've gotten that for free."). Then again, she'd grown up in a pirate's nest and probably didn't expect subtlety. We agreed to meet again later that night and then quickly said our goodbyes. Now that we had dropped all pretence of mutual affection neither of us saw the need to behave any more amorously than we actually felt. Our ill-fated relationship had already transformed into a promising business partnership.

We were just about to part ways, only a few steps away from the makeshift hut that served Heero and me as a distillery, when we saw the door of said hut burst open and none other than Zechs rush out, looking distinctly put out and clutching a rather dishevelled bunch of flowers to his chest.

"You forgot your wallet," a voice – Heero's – called after him. Shortly after, a leather pouch flew through the open door and almost hit Zechs on the head.

"Still haven't given up," I asked dryly when he bent down to pick up his pouch.

„Well, I see you have," he drawled, casting a meaningful look at Relena, who was still standing right next to me.

"Ah, that's—"

"— exactly right! Mr. Maxwell happens to have excellent taste," Relena shot back and demonstratively grabbed my arm. I heaved an internal sigh, count on Relena to muddle things up. "*I*'ve never understood what everyone sees in my half-brother, really, I haven't. He's skinny and dirty and horribly dressed! I'm far more beautiful, and sociable to boot. Don't know why nobody notices these things..."

Zechs looked at us pensively. "I see."

There was something in his look that made me distinctly uncomfortable. Time to get out of here, I thought.

"Well, it sure has been nice talking to you both buuut I've got to get back to work!" Winking at Zechs, I added: "Don't want to keep Heero waiting."

Zechs grumbled something, but regained his composure fairly quickly. Flashing Relena a rather charming smile, he said: "In that case, why don't I take Miss Relena back to the Inn? It's on my way. How about it, Miss?" And when he went so far as to offer her his arm, she all but swooned and quickly released me to cling to Zechs instead.

"Goodbye, Mr. Maxwell. I'll see you later!"

"Yeah… later."

Heero was quiet for the remainder of the evening. I didn't know if he had overheard our brief conversation, but fervently hoped he didn't. No one likes to be insulted by family, even if said family consists of Relena. We worked till close to midnight. Heero seemed determined to work the whole night, but I still had to meet Relena to finally get those elusive coordinates. I didn't have the slightest idea how I'd explain the whole situation to Trowa, Quatre and Wufei, or if we should really take Relena with us, too. Our band of fellow adventurers seemed to be expanding daily. At that rate, I thought, our ship might actually get a little crowded once we'd finally set sail again. But there was no turning back now. I was determined to get the whole thing over and done with, once and for all.

Through excessive yawning and exaggerated clumsiness I finally brought Heero to call it a day. We left the distillery together, but halfway back to the Inn, I suddenly stopped and excused myself, claiming that I'd forgotten something and needed to go back to get it.

When I reached the distillery, Relena was already waiting for me...


	14. re

I'm happy to announce that at long last there will be a kiss!

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Looking back to it now, I must admit that forgetting to ask Heero for the key to the distillery really was a momentous mistake. Alas, my life was a series of momentous mistakes, beginning with the colossal mistakes my parents had made before I was even born (as you may remember, my dad was a pirate while my mum… was self-employed). It was no wonder then that I as their son made lots and lots of mistakes and one of them was not asking Heero for the key...

"About time," Relena complained when I finally reached her. "It's freezing!" After sunset the wind had picked up considerably and was now chasing rain clouds over the island.

"Sorry, Miss," I gasped out, a little out of breath from running. "Couldn't get away sooner. Heero's work ethic is—"

"Well, let's not waste time with idle chitchat. We have a business agreement I fully intend to honour."

"So do I, Miss Relena! I give you my word... um… as a pirate."

She rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. You don't expect me to undress here in the middle of the street, do you? Is there a reasonably warm place we can go to?"

"Oh, right. I guess we could use the distillery. Heero's already back at the Inn. Let's just get it over and done with, shall we?" Yep, that's as much enthusiasm as I could muster for the whole endeavour.

I led her up the stairs and reached for the door latch. That's when I remembered that I didn't ask Heero for the key to the heavy iron padlock that secured the distillery's sturdy, wooden door. On an island where the majority of the population suffered from alcoholism, rum was quite a valuable and sought-after commodity. The lock was one of the two reasons why the islanders hadn't raided the distillery. Heero was the second.

"Sorry, Miss, we'll have to climb through the window..."

Relena huffed indignantly, but thankfully for once kept silent.

* * *

As soon as we were safely inside, I lit a lamp and she shed her dress. Passing the light over her back, I searched her skin for the tattoo I'd only just glimpsed on that disastrous morning I'd woken up in her bed.

"Are you sure you don't want me to turn around," Relena asked hopefully after a short while.

"Oh yes! Quite sure. It'll be over in a minute." Or not…

It was just my luck that the shaky tattooed digits were far from easily readable. Whoever had done the tattoo must have been either very clumsy or dead drunk, quite possibly both.

"Let's see…forty-eight… no, forty-five…"

"What on *earth* are you doing?"

"I'm just… admiring your tattoo?"

"Oh *that*."

Thinking that I might get some useful information out of her, I asked as innocently as possible: "This tattoo here on your shoulder is quite… stunning, I mean… unusual. When did you have it done?"

"Good grief, I didn't! I'd never mar my skin with something hideous like that. My father had it done when I was little. I don't remember. I usually hide the ugly thing beneath my dress."

Well, Mr. Sawdown was cleverer than I thought! He'd kept the clues well-concealed in two separate places to make it impossible for even his wives and their respective children to find the treasure on their own. Suddenly, a thought struck me. For the first time and really rather belatedly I wondered if we were actually the only ones who knew about the gold and tried to get it. Did anyone else know about the map? The siblings' tattoos? Were we up against a whole host of treasure hunters without even realizing it? It certainly bore thinking about. Resolving to speak to Heero about it as soon as possible, I focused my attention on the task at hand…

"Miss, would you hold the lamp for a minute? Thanks. I really have to take a closer look…"

And just as I leaned down to take a very close look at the scrawly lines etched into Relena's skin— in fact, I was almost touching her shoulder with my nose; the tattoo was really almost illegible— there was a noise at the door.

A low and rather angry voice said: "You forgot the key."

Of course, it was Heero. Who else but him would have noticed such a minor yet still significant error. I slowly turned my head towards the door. Sure enough, there was Heero in all his scary glory, hair impossibly dishevelled by the wind, cheeks flushed pink from the cold night air, eyes clear and dark in the gloom. He looked cold and angry but for some completely inconceivable reason also very, very sad.

In a highly uncomfortable moment of perfect clarity, I suddenly realized what the whole situation must look like: I was leaning over a very naked Relena, nose all but touching her neck. It was well after midnight. We were all alone in a deserted area of the harbour. Hot embarrassment shot through me and I jerked away from Relena as if she were soap and clean water. Desperately trying to explain myself, I gasped out what everyone in my situation would have said:

"Ahaha. It's really not what it looks like!"

Unfortunately, Relena had also realized what was happening and started to scream: "Don't look! Don't look! I'm *completely* naked!" Which made the whole situation seem rather more scandalous than it was. While Relena abandoned herself to hysteria, I couldn't tear my eyes away from Heero. He now looked considerably more angry than sad. But just as I opened my mouth to explain everything, he turned and rushed outside.

"W-wait! Heero!" I stumbled after him, stubbing my toes on various tools and utensils littering the floor. "Ouch! Ouch! Damn those damn coordinates!"

Outside, cold winds swept howling in from the sea. The rain had turned into a downpour, drenching my hair and clothes in seconds, but I paid it no mind. The only thing I could think about was Heero and how seeing me with Relena had somehow hurt him. And though this seemed utterly impossible, his sadness was just as impossible to bear. Heero was smaller and faster than I and almost managed to vanish into an alley, but I got hold of his horrible, much-mended sweater and pulled him against me.

"Heero, wait a sec—"

"Let. Me. Go," he growled, but didn't really struggle.

"I want to explain—"

"I swear, I'll use force—" His eyes flashed dangerously and I believed every word of it. Never before had I seen him so agitated and discomposed. It was actually quite attractive.

"It's really not what it looked like! I—"

"Get off!"

"I don't even like her! In fact I—"

"I said get off—"

"I'm quite sure I lo—"

"Get. Off. Me. Now!"

"I love you!"

* * *

The rain kept pouring down on us.

The wind kept pulling at our clothes and whipping at our faces.

Heero and I stood in the downpour and let the rain soak us to the bone. For a long moment, we stared at each other, I embarrassed and slightly surprised by my own words, he confused and utterly bewildered. He was looking up at me with large, vulnerable eyes, brows drawn up in an endearingly helpless manner. His hair was a mess, drenched with rain and sea-spray. His lips were slowly turning blue. The poorly mended sweater he was doomed to wear was now completely soaked through and clung to him like seaweed to rock. Suddenly I was filled with a wild and reckless exhilaration. I leaned down, gathered him into my arms and kissed him for all he was worth.

I don't have to remind you that Heero could have easily, single-handedly, overpowered me; just as he'd defended himself against Zechs a few nights before. But I still hadn't been knocked down, strangled or seriously maimed, so he obviously wanted to be kissed. The thought was as surreal and inconceivable as everything else. But then there was additional evidence in the way his head tipped back, his mouth grew soft and unresisting and the rest of his body melted against me like an iceberg in the sun. Drunk on Heero's kisses, I barely noticed that his arms wound around my neck and then—

Crack!

Heero threw a right hook and hit me square on the chin.

"How dare you kiss me!"

"W-wait! Now, didn't you kiss me back?"

"No, I didn't!"

"Oh yes, I think you did."

"No, I didn't."

"But—"

"You kissed my sister!"

"Eh? N-no, I didn't!"

"I saw you."

"No, that is… I was—looking at her tattoo… um… *really* close."

Heero didn't look as if he believed me. Now why the devil had I learnt how to lie if people didn't even believe me when I was speaking the truth? I was seriously considering giving up on lying altogether. What a waste of time and energy!

"Heero, if you'd just let me explain," I tried again. "It's all because of—" I lowered my voice and cautiously glanced around the alley. This really wasn't the place to discuss treasures and mysterious coordinates. The harbour was infested with pirates, spies and adventurers. "—um, I can't tell you _here_, but you _must_ believe me—"

But Heero had already regained his momentarily abandoned but easily recovered composure. He silenced me with a wave of his hand. "Your personal affairs don't concern me. I'm leaving."

"For someone who claims not to care you get kind of violent," I muttered, ruefully rubbing my chin.

Heero sent me a withering look. "I'm leaving. Now, if you would remove your hands…"

I looked down at my hands and sure enough they still were all over him.

"S-sorry," I muttered and stepped away.

Without further ado, Heero slipped out of my arms, turned and was off.


	15. Look

warnings: drunk!Relena is actually kind of cute…

**Chapter 15: Look-**

Once Heero was gone, I felt oddly bereft. I had been running after treasures for as long as I could remember... I had dug them up from mud and dirt, had tricked and cheated people to get them and crossed whole oceans trying to find them—but I hadn't been able to recognize a real treasure when it fell right into my arms and socked me on the chin. Figuratively speaking. Since I have committed myself to tell the complete and unadulterated truth (from which I haven't deviated so much as a hair's-breadth in my narrative— pirate's honour!) I will admit that after Heero left me standing in the rain I may have almost felt like bursting into tears… but of course I didn't. Being a pirate, there was only one acceptable way to solve this emotional predicament… which was getting drunk. But first things first— and in that case that meant Relena.

Trudging back to the distillery through torrents of rain, I found the door wide open. Dim light from inside reflected off the wet cobblestones leading up to the ramshackle hut and I quickened my steps to get out of the cold, wondering if Relena had left right after getting back into her clothes… but when I got inside, I noticed she was still there.

She had made herself comfortable on a wooden crate, with her feet propped up on a small keg, and was helping herself to our newly distilled rum. I cringed inwardly. Some of that stuff hadn't been tested yet.

"Mishhter Maxwell, there you are again," she exclaimed when she saw me, slurring her words. "Didn't think you'd come back sho shoon."

"Oh, well…"

"You know what? You're like thish glass of r-rum!" She waved her glass for emphasis, spilling a good deal of rum all over herself. "Sh-sh-shee-through. Transhparent!"

She paused—possibly for dramatic effect but maybe just to regain her train of thought—, hiccupped and then declared: "You're in love with Heero!"

The rum must have made her uncharacteristically perceptive or maybe it was just too bloody obvious.

"Well, I don' care," she continued. "R-really. Everyone'sh in love with him, every-every-everyone. Poor s-sh-od, he'sh never goin' to love you back, you know? No nay never! Never. Never. Never. Ne—"

"Ok, I think I get it."

She harrumphed. "And I'll have you know that I'm alsho very e-e-eligible."

"If you say so, Miss Relena." Never argue with a drunk. One of my guiding principles. Play cards with them! Much more profitable...

"Yep, very e-eligible. You wouldn't believe how eligible I am!"

That was actually true, I didn't believe her. And I really didn't want to start discussing Relena's love life. My own was depressing enough.

"Look, Miss Relena, why don't we call it a night," I suggested politely. "I could use a drink and I'm sure you could use some sleep. Let me just have another quick look at your back and—

"—and shee the coordinatesh?"

Huh?

"You know, I'm not shtupid. I can put two and two together– it's three, by the way— 'damn thoshe coordinatesh,' you shaid. When you r-rushed out after your da-a-rling Heero. 'Damn thoshe coordinatesh.' I remember." She proudly tapped her finger against her forehead.

Damn. This whole mess about being unhappily in love must have gotten to me more than I had realized or Wufei had been right all along and I really was a cursed blabbermouth.

"Miss Relena—"

"Mishhter Maxwell, don't mesh around with me! I'm far too shmart." She nodded gravely and hiccupped again.

Even drunk as she was, there was no way I could tell her everything… Relena wasn't like her brother (to be fair, no one I had ever met was, but that's beside the point), she wasn't as honourable and selfless or as trustworthy. Clueing her in was a really, really bad idea…

"I want fifty pershhhent."

"Huh?"

"Fifty persh— oh bugger, half of everything!"

"B-but— we already split by four!"

When I saw her eyebrow twitch knowingly, I realized I had been tricked.

"Sho… you really are after shomething. Intereshting." She smirked drunkenly. Damn the woman.

"Miss, let me remind you of our agreement! We'll take you with us when we leave the island. You can go to Europe and marry your duke or king or whatever. That's what you want, right?"

"It'sh the tattoo, ishn't it?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ha!"

"What about Europe? Court life, noblemen… the newest fashions? You'd look amazing in those flouncy Parisian dresses!"

"Oh, I'm shure I would."

"So?"

"Sho… I've got to shink about it."

"What's there to think about?!"

Relena smirked, then from one moment to the next her face turned alarmingly green and she looked as if she was going to be sick. While I was torn between getting a bucket and throttling her out of sheer frustration, she slurred in a small voice: "I shink… I shh-ould lie down…"

I had the sinking feeling that there was no reasoning with a drunk Relena... even sober she was a handful. Maybe a tactical retreat would be advisable. And, I reminded myself, what did she even know? Hardly anything. Just that somewhere in this whole mess something valuable might be gained. It could probably wait until tomorrow, couldn't it?

"All right, Miss," I sighed. "We'll speak about this tomorrow."

After some cajoling, I managed to pry her away from the rum and brought her back to the inn. As soon as they saw her, the barmaids started to fuss over her and I was more than glad to get her off my hands. Then, I got knee-walking drunk and won another small fortune of tin buttons. I was still incredibly unlucky in love and as a consequence won every single game I joined that night. When I ran out of people to play against, I stumbled into bed, fully intending to see Relena first thing in the morning…

* * *

At the break of dawn, my sleep was rudely and prematurely interrupted by someone slapping my cheek. As I slowly came awake, I became aware of shouting and all kinds of noisy, confused sounds— angry and excited voices babbling all at once, people stomping up and down the stairs, pounding on doors, knocking over furniture and generally creating havoc. It was nothing like the usual early-morning tumult in the busy tavern... The Sailor's Inn seemed to have descended into chaos.

The slapping intensified and I cracked open one eye to see Wufei's disgruntled face hovering over me.

"Stop that noice, Wu. 's far too early…"

"Get up, Duo! Something is going on. It sounds like they're taking apart the house."

At that moment, the commotion reached our hallway. Someone very angry and very determined started to pound against the door to our room.

"Open the door! Or we'll break it down and break a few bones while we're at it," a deep, rough voice boomed from outside. Our door shook and creaked under the violent onslaught.

Wufei moved to his feet. "We'd better open before—"

But the old rickety door had already yielded to the last blow and collapsed with a loud thud. Two huge men, armed with guns and knives and glowering fiercely, loomed in the doorway.

"We're here to search the rooms," the smaller of the two informed us gruffly. "Don't try to get in our way. You'll regret it."

Wufei and I looked at each other, then back up at the two men and slowly raised our hands.

"By all means…"

"Go ahead…"

The two pushed aside the sad remains of what had once been our door, squeezed themselves into our tiny room and started to go through our clothes, our kitbags and the wooden crate that masqueraded as our wardrobe. Finally, they lifted the straw mattress on our bed and peered beneath it. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, except for some extraordinarily shabby clothes, the smaller thug said to his companion: "She's not here either."

"Oh no… Boss won't be pleased to hear that!"

"You're looking for a **woman**," I blurted out without thinking.

"In our room," Wufei asked, scandalized.

"In a kitbag?"

They obviously weren't the sharpest knives in the drawer.

"Who are you looking for," I asked boldly, forgetting for a moment that they had just threatened to beat us up if we didn't cooperate.

"That's none of your business," the smaller fellow snapped and resumed his glowering.

"Maybe we've seen her? I mean, **before** she got lost."

"Oh. Well…" He seemed to think about it for a moment. Then he said: "It's the Boss's daughter. She's been missing since last night."

"Relena," Wufei asked to clarify.

"But—" Just as I was about to argue that Relena couldn't possibly be missing, that she must be in her bed sleeping off her hang-over, someone started shouting down below on the street.

"Hey-Ho!"

Wufei and I rushed to the window and looked outside. It was one of the dockers from the harbour, gesturing excitedly and shouting at the top of his lungs: "The _Tallgeese! _The _Tallgeese _has set sail!"

I looked at Wufei, grabbed his shirtsleeve and – sidestepping the two thugs – dragged him out of the room and downstairs.

The barroom was crammed with people who had been driven from their rooms by the same unfriendly twosome that had destroyed our door. Now they were standing on tip-toes and craning their heads to see what the commotion was all about. Sawdown stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by his bawling barmaids, who wept, inconsolable, into their aprons. The docker had just made his way to him and repeated his message in a breathless voice.

"Do you know what course she took?"

"S-south-south-west… They're sailing with the wind."

A murmur arose from the gathered men.

"The Tallgeese? That's Merquise's ship," someone said and someone else: "He still owes me a bottle of rum!"

I scanned the room, hoping to see Heero somewhere, but only spotted Quatre and Trowa some feet away from us in the crowd.

"What's going on here," I asked the old pirate standing next to me.

"Seems like Relena's missing. Abducted, they say, but why anyone would want to do that I really don't know…" He shrugged and grinned a mostly toothless grin.

The excited whispers went on for some minutes until Sawdown silenced the room with a sweep of his hand. "Where's Zechs Merquise," he demanded, voice tight with barely suppressed anger.

"I played cards with him yesterday!"

"Yeah, me too. Lost a small fortune…"

"I saw him at Mrs. P's Place."

"He's really popular with the ladies, isn't he?"

"Must be that mask—it's quite fetching."

"Really?! What about my eye-patch then?"

The crowd erupted into laughter.

"Well, I'll be damned! That scoundrel stole my daughter!" Sawdown's voice boomed through the room and everyone fell silent.

A skinny old pirate, still a little drunk from the night before, piped up: „Man, you're lucky someone took her off your hands!"

"Yeah… she's not exactly pretty," another pirate supplied, between snickers.

"One more word and I cut out your vile tongues," Sawdown snapped. "You're talking about my daughter." He sighed deeply. "And you should have seen her mother..."

Someone started to laugh again but was quickly hushed by his neighbour.

"Gentlemen," Sawdown resumed after glaring at the crowd. "That rascal has robbed my poor, innocent daughter! And I as her doting father am not abandoning her to her fate—a truly horrible fate… I'm sure we all know what I'm talking about here… Alas, as you well know I'm just a simple businessman, I have neither the ability nor the means to go after them and bring her back myself like I want to. And let's not forget I have another child, Heero, you all know how dear he's to me— if I go after my daughter and leave him here alone with his… admirers, let's face it… that's even worse than letting her go off with Zechs! So, I need the help of my dear loyal costumers— who is willing to commit himself, his ship and his crew to reuniting this poor distraught father with his beloved child?"

For a moment, he looked expectantly at the gathered pirates. Everyone was very silent.

"Well, you wouldn't have to do it without recompense of course… If you bring her back in one piece, you may have everything I own. The Inn, the sugarcane fields and— the distillery with every drop of rum that's inside!"

Well, that certainly got him the attention of the assembled whether they actually owned a ship or not. Thoughts of barrels upon barrels of rum put a sparkle in their eyes and had them licking their lips in anticipation. Several pirate captains began to stroke their beards thoughtfully.

Suddenly, my mind was racing, trying to piece together wayward puzzle pieces into the complete picture that had so far eluded us. In my mind's eye, I saw my old friend Jack, laughing and telling stories about a thief who had deceived his friends, I thought about Sawdown and Zechs, his loyal customer, I saw Zechs threatening Heero near the docks, urging him to reveal some secret and then Relena almost swooning as she took his arm and sauntered back with him to the Inn. Relena, who knew about the coordinates and had boasted only yesterday that she was more eligible than I could imagine… Relena, who had disappeared, and so had Zechs.

I grabbed Trowa's arm and forcefully yanked it up into the air so anyone could see. "Mr. Sawdown! The _Heavyarms_ is at your service."

"W-what the hell," Trowa exclaimed, trying to free his arm from my grip. Wufei and Quatre stared at me as if I'd lost my mind, which of course I hadn't.

„Trust me," I hissed.

Wufei rolled his eyes. „That's what he always says!"

"_You_ have a ship?" Sawdown turned around and frowned.

"Oh, yes. We have the fastest ship you could possibly get your hands on on this frog-infested island." Some of the gathered pirates grumbled noisily in protest.

"When can you set sail? Do you even have a crew?"

Actually, we didn't. Our crew had disbanded to parts unknown as soon as we'd arrived on the island.

„Course we hav-ouch!" Quatre hit me on the shin.

„Well…" Sawdown looked around the room, waiting to see if anyone else was willing to risk his ship and his life to save another man's daughter. No one did. "See to it that your ship is ready to set sail by afternoon. As for the rest of you sorry lot— Get back to your rooms! All of you! The show is over!"

As soon as Sawdown stopped talking, excited chatter rose up all over the room; everyone was trying to find out more about the whole story or worried loudly about the Inn and their regular supply of rum.

"Duo, I think you have some explaining to do," said Trowa, as we watched the hustle and bustle of arriving and departing pirates.

"Relena has the coordinates."

"She—what," Quatre gasped out. Wufei and Trowa looked equally surprised.

"They are tattooed on her shoulder, just like Heero's map is tattooed on his back. And before you ask, I didn't get the chance to look at them probably... You have no idea what I had to do to even get a small glimpse... It was horrible, trust me."

"So Relena knows about the treasure," Trowa asked, matter-of-factly.

"Well… she didn't. She wasn't aware that her tattoo had any deeper meaning at all, but—due to unfortunate circumstances—Relena might have gotten an idea of just how valuable her tattoo really is… yesterday."

"Oh, please say you didn't actually tell her," Quatre cut in.

"I didn't actually tell her."

"Are you lying?"

"M-maybe?"

I knew there was no way around telling them the whole story now. So I told them everything—from that strange morning in Relena's bed when I had noticed her tattoo to yesterday's tryst in the distillery. Well, almost everything… I didn't tell them about how I had more or less ravished Heero in an alley or my surprising declaration of love or the kissing that happened afterwards and that, in my lovesick, muddled mind, was quickly becoming The Kiss, the most perfect, pure and passionate kiss in the history of kisses. The only kiss I'd shared with anyone that had ever been worth anything. When I was finished, Quatre's eye was twitching, Wufei was blushing furiously and Trowa thoughtfully rubbed at his eye-patch.

"So Duo made out with Relena and now we know that she actually has the coordinates of the island where the treasure is buried," Quatre summed up my story.

"I-I didn't make out with her!"

"Correct" Trowa replied, ignoring me. "But Heero still has the map with the exact directions of where to start digging. His map is pretty detailed— the treasure lies buried in a valley, near a brook—but the location of the island itself is too undefined to actually give us a clue where it is. That's what Relena's coordinates are for."

"I didn't make out with her!"

"You woke up in bed together and you asked her if you could see her naked," Quatre said, a little too smugly.

"Well, yes, to—"

"To see her _tattoo_... We know." It was glaringly obvious they didn't and I sighed in frustration.

"What about Zechs," Trowa asked, steering the conversation out of the gutter and back to the issue at hand.

"Relena must have told him," I replied. "He was very friendly towards her yesterday and we all know how desperate that girl is. He was trying the same thing with Heero, without much success of course. I always thought he just wanted to woo him like everyone else, but he was after the treasure, I'm sure of it now."

Quatre's eyebrows wrinkled thoughtfully. "We're lucky Relena doesn't know about Heero's map or Zechs might have tried to take him as well."

"You're right, we better keep a very close eye on him from now on," I agreed and then something occurred to me. "Where is Heero anyway? Has anyone seen him this morning?"

And when my friends shook their heads, I felt an odd shiver of premonition run down my spine.


End file.
